Did You Forget Yourself?
by Sir Jason Gray
Summary: Kemal Pamuk took Lady Mary's heart one passionate night in 1913. The romance of the rebel lady and roguish Turk transforms the world around them, as Mary and her sisters Edith and Sybil, find themselves caught in a whirlwind of passion, intrigue, blackmail, and drama. Join the Crawley family on the dramatic journey through a revolutionary romance amid tumultuous times.
1. A Night to Remember

**Author's Note:Considering the success of another story I've written based off another TV series (Charmed), I'll split up the chapters according to an episode. The main characters for this story are Mary Crawley and Kemal Pamuk (yes, there will be a lot of romance between them); Anna Smith and John Bates; Daisy and William; and Sybil and Tom (there will also be an OC male who takes interest in Sybil later in the story). **

**Please review and follow.**

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**Episode 1.03 A Night to Remember**

**March 1913**

"I'm very attracted to the Turkish culture," Thomas murmured.

As he fastidiously examined his reflection in the mirror, Kemal Pamuk ignored the voice of the footman assigned to serve him. The half-Turkish, half-Greek emissary cared very little for the thoughts of a servant, let alone a servant who was not his. His lemon yellow tie would not fasten under the ministrations of even Kemal's nimble fingers. If he were less than dashing, then what hope would he have to enchant the Lady Mary?

"Tie this for me." Kemal turned to face the footman, whose name he hadn't bothered to remember.

"I would certainly like to visit Turkey someday," the footman continued.

_'On what salary? Surely the passage across the sea would cost you whatever meager savings you might hope to have,' _Kemal thought derisively. He stared into the space over the top of the servant's head; Kemal was at least four inches taller than the footman.

"Yes, the country is quite beautiful. You should go someday if you have the chance."

"I would love to see such an exotic land—and its people in all their glory."

Kemal should have seen it coming: the caress of the English footman's fingers on his cheek. The Turkish emissary reacted to the footman's touch like a searing hot iron. The footman backed away, hurt and fear wedded in his eyes.

"Have you forgotten yourself? That will teach you to believe what the English say about foreigners."

"I'm-I'm-I'm sorry, it wasn't…."

"Do not lie to me." Kemal could have fastened his fingers around the footman's throat and slain him there, and none would have been the wiser. He had visited enough English homes since he embarked to discuss the independence of Albania to grasp the treatment of their servants. "You presumed the exotic foreigner would have such tastes as run rampant here."

"Please…"

"I could report you for such behavior," Kemal turned and aggressively began to fasten his own tie, using the mirror as a guide. "If you attempted such a thing in Turkey, the Sultan would have you executed. But I will make you a deal."

Thomas' eyes brightened at the notion. "What sort of deal?"

"I require your assistance with…the geography of the house. There is someone I may wish to visit later tonight." Kemal's rage had subsided only with the thought of the expedition he would soon undertake. "If all goes well, your behavior will go unreported."

* * *

The tedium of the dinner was followed by the nightfall. Although Kemal was not the only suitor trying to converse with Lady Mary, the others failed to retain her interest. He could see it in her lovely dark eyes when he summoned her to the adjacent drawing room after dinner.

When he beckoned to her, she came to him.

In the drawing room, she breathlessly engaged him in an insipid conversation about a meaningless portrait.

When he placed his lips on hers, Mary yielded fervently to him.

* * *

As instructed, Thomas came to Kemal's quarters once slumber had come to visit the rest of the manor. The Turkish emissary pretended to be asleep, but he watched Thomas carefully when the footman entered his room. Through half-closed lids, Kemal studied the footman's approach. When he reached the bed with the alacrity and stealth of an assassin, Thomas hovered over his bed. Kemal felt his dark eyes rake his motionless form before he reached for and stirred Kemal's slim hip bone.

Kemal pretended to wake only at that moment. "Is it time?"

Thomas merely motioned for the young emissary to follow him. Gathering his red silk night robe from the coat tree beside his bed, Kemal wrapped it around his lean frame and followed the footman down the long, drafty corridor from the bachelor's quarters. They past the rich mahogany doors marking the chambers of Lord and Lady Grantham with increased caution, and Kemal noted a drastic difference in the wallpaper decorating the walls. In the bachelors' quarters, the walls were steely gray, but in the other end of the hal, their walls were decorated graciously with pirouetting ballerinas.

Thomas pointed Kemal to the first door on his left, which the young emissary found unlocked. He opened the door and swept into the room.

Lady Mary leaped from her bed, tossing aside her book, and gaped at Kemal in alarm. It could not have been a more enchanting moment if Kemal had planned it. The fire crackling in Lady Mary's fireplace waltzed warmly across the exposed plain of his lean chest and illuminated the gold embroidery of his robe. Kemal had brushed his wavy hair before retiring to bed, and they added to his handsomeness.

Mary's snow white complexion was invigorated by the heat of the room so that the faintest blush dusted her cheeks. Her hair, loosened from its dinner arrangement, tumbled freely about her slim shoulders to the décolletage of her nightgown. Kemal had known buxom women and humbled-chested women. Mary's humble bosom complimented her body, made athletic by obvious riding experience.

"What are you doing here?" Mary demanded indignantly. She picked up the ivory cover of her bed and clutched it to her chest.

Kemal smiled inwardly. Brazen as Mary portrayed herself, she was quite chaste. His impulsive kiss in the drawing room had confirmed that. He could tell she admired his confident, roguish ways and his physical beauty, but was reluctant to surrender her chastity that alone. So his tactic for charming her had to be different from his tactic for seducing every other woman he had met.

"That kiss was not all I hoped to share with you tonight."

"What more could you hope to share in my room than we could share in public?"

"Forgive me for my improper courtship, but…."

"You should get out. Get out, or I'll…"

"Scream?" Kemal finished with a half-smirk. "And let them find a man in your bedroom? Think of how that would look."

"I do not mean to give myself to you. So leave, please."

"Do you then deny that you looked upon me today with desire? Or that you yielded to my affections earlier?"

Kemal took two steps closer to Mary. Her seductive brown eyes spoke of the skittishness common to her kind (genus: female, species: virgo), and she clung to the cover as a brick wall to safeguard her virtue.

"You must be mad?"

"I am. I am in the grip of madness."

Despite the security of her blanket, Mary stepped closer to Kemal. So close, he could inhale her fragrance and the heady aroma of something more powerful and alluring. Her scent reminded Kemal of the belly-dancing woman who had been his first conquest. Yet, she remained at arm's length.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking? I'd be ruined if my parents—or anyone—ever knew we had this conversation, let alone…"

"You would still be a virgin for your husband."

Kemal took two steps closer to Mary. Although she did not realize it, Mary was now trapped between the bed and his body. She lowered the cover only slightly. "Heavens, is this a proposal?'

He scoffed at the idea. _'The British Empire is not yet equipped for a marriage between a swarthy Turk and an English maiden. But you are not ready to accept that, are you, Lady Mary?'_ "I don't think our union would please your family."

"I'm afraid not."

"Nor would mine be pleased." Kemal smirked inwardly at his swift thinking. "But…a little imagination….You wouldn't be the first."

Kemal closed the distance between them and stroke Mary's loose luxuriant brown curls. "You and my parents have something in common. You believe I'm much more a rebel than I am." He kissed her neck at the pulse point. Mary's heart throbbed all the more rapidly at his touch. She yielded and fell backward onto the bed.

"If I've led you on, then it's my mistake," she gasped, while Kemal rained kisses on her neck and bared shoulders. "I'm not what you think I am."

Kemal paused and gazed into Mary's eyes. Her body arced against his, and Kemal felt her supple, erect breasts pressed against him. _'Surely she feels my manhood pressed against him. Mary's body wants me. Now I need to persuade her lips to betray her as well.'_

"You are exactly who I think you are."

"I've never done anything with a man," she gasped.

Kemal concentrated his eyes on hers. "One look at you could tell me that." He pressed his lips to hers. Only the smallest amount of resistance was there any longer. _'Mary's lips taste of vanilla and cinnamon, a taste of life at home.'_ "Oh my darling, let us at least have tonight."

He showered Mary's lips and neck with kisses while shrugging off his night robe. "Is it safe?"

"Trust me." Kemal pressed his lips—and his hips—to meet Mary's and met no resistance at all. As his kisses grew more passionate, Mary slipped off the straps and sleeves of her nightgown.

* * *

In the wee hours of the morning, Kemal slipped from Lady Mary's chamber. The soft carpet beneath his feet absorbed his footsteps. Fortunately, the satiated heiress whispered directions to return to his chamber before she shut her door. Kemal unlocked the door to the maidens' wing and crept down the corridor to the bachelors' quarters. He was accustomed to the awkward silence of the deflowered woman after a night of passionate lovemaking, but Kemal was respectfully unwilling to alert the house. After all, there was no need to shame the woman after he had taken her maidenhood.

As Kemal strode down the hallway to his bedchamber, he didn't turn back and look for even one second. If he had, Kemal would have seen the timid housemaid, Daisy, leaning out of Lady Sibyl's bedroom to observe the source of the footsteps in the hall at such an early hour.


	2. Of Sailships and Sultans, Part One

**Author's Note: I had posted about eight chapters to this story from last December until March, when the story stalled on eight reviews and seven followers. In the three months that have passed, I've spent my free time (that is, free time after writing, exercise, and hanging with friends and family lol) studying early twentieth century English culture to attain, hopefully, as accurate a depiction for the rest of the story. Plus, after seeing the success of another story, I decided to opt for a different format. This story should feel like a TV series, since it is based on a TV series, and I should have been telling the stories of multiple characters, framing them around the central romance of Mary and Kemal.**

**My apologies to anyone who was following the original story, but I hope that you all will enjoy this rewrite more than the original. Please, please, PLEASE review and follow.**

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**Chapter 2: Of Sailships and of Sultans, Part One**

**Episode 1x04, Part One**

**April 1913**

_**Downton Abbey, t**_**_wo weeks later…_**

Before the sun caressed the polished parquet floor of Downton Abbey's main hall, the downstairs staff had lit fires, begun to cook breakfast, had brought in fresh firewood, and cleaned everything visible in the main house to achieve the superb quality of spotlessness expected by Lord and Lady Grantham. Fresh flowers filled the vase in the main hall. Anna Smith's meal with the rest of the downstairs staff was constrained by the ringing of the bells for the Lady's bedroom and Lady Mary's bedroom.

"I suppose that's the end of our break hour." Anna dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin and rose from the table. Mr. Carson had already departed from the room to check the silver and set the table.

"If Her Ladyship is calling, His Lordship shouldn't be too far behind." Bates grunted as he stood. Anna came around the table and helped by pulling out his chair. "I'd better head up before he rings for me."

"Better to be where you're wanted than staying where you're not, I always say," Thomas said, folding his newspaper. He didn't have to look at Bates. The direction of his words was obvious.

"Then where would that put you?" Bates queried before he limped from the room.

* * *

Upstairs in Lady Mary's bedroom, Anna found the young woman standing nude in her bathtub. Anna gasped with surprise at Mary's brazen stance, and Mary defiantly put her hands on her hips. "I felt it was within reason to bathe myself this month, since it isn't essential any way, but it seemed a bit presumptuous to dress and do my own hair."

"Your Ladyship, it's not that. I didn't expect to walk in and find you in such a state."

Mary turned her back to Anna. Her ebony hair contrasted sharply with her creamy smooth skin, and dripped still from her bathwater. Glancing over her shoulder with her hands still on her hips, Mary could have been a graceful oil painting by one of the impressionist masters.

"Quite right, Lady Mary, I suppose it is a bit wrong to dress yourself." Anna hurried to unfold a towel from the freshly laundered stack she had brought with her, and wrapped it around Mary's nude body. "What would you like to wear today, your Ladyship?"

"As Papa and Mama are still offering me like Isaac to the god of marriage and comfort, I should think the blue silk frock is the most suitable."

"Perhaps you should wear something brighter during dinner, Lady Mary. Forgive me for speaking out of turn."

Mary stared out the window on the far side of her bedroom, as she dried and slipped into her petticoat. Even from the bathtub she could see through the window to most of the ground of Downton. The grounds were shrouded in a light blanket of fog that reached into the trees bordering the well-kept Grantham estate. _'When I was a little girl, I could not bear the thought of going into those woods, especially when it was a foggy morning like this one. Now I'm not afraid of the unknown anymore.'_

"Who will be the guest at dinner tonight? Mama told me, but I'm certain the name is forgettable."

"Lord Evelyn Napier, I believe, milady."

"Then I forgive you for speaking out of turn, Anna, but blue it shall be all day and all night."

Anna went to retrieve a thicker blue dress from Mary's wardrobe. Mary sat at her makeup table to begin applying color. Once she had laid out Mary's dress, Anna picked out a set of pearl earrings and an understated gold necklace to compliment the dress.

"Milady, you were so excited to see Lord Napier before his last visit. And you two were such good friends when you were children. I was certain you were waiting for his proposal. What happened?"

Anna put the earrings and necklace against the dress and held up the outfit for Mary's approval in the mirror. "That's fine, Anna." She stood up, and Anna eased the dress onto Mary's body without even ruffling her petticoat. "Lord Napier is really duller than I remembered, Anna. He's like any childhood toy: When I was younger he was quite entertaining, but since my tastes have matured, his haven't.

"I require someone more intriguing. And that won't be Lord Napier."

* * *

**_Branson Manor_**

**_The Home of the Napier Family_**

Kemal was alone in the sunroom overlooking the grounds of Branson Manor, surrounded by light flooding in from every window. A canvas propped on an easel was in front of him. Kemal's left hand danced across the canvas to choreograph a sketch with the charcoal pencil in his hand.

_'Oh my love, I had to capture this as soon as I completed my morning ride,' _Kemal thought as he laid out the fine details of his subject's features. _'As soon as I mounted a steed, you were foremost in my thoughts. It was so reminiscent of the day we met. How could I not think of you?'_

"Father thinks your art could have waited until you changed clothes to be expressed." Kemal turned and spotted Evelyn Napier standing stiffly in the doorway between the sunroom and the library. He wore a light plum traveling suit and dapper white-and-black wingtips. The sunlight on his pale skin did nothing to enhance his features, the way it made Kemal's olive skin turn bronze.

Kemal looked down and examined his clothing. He wore a cream silk riding shirt, a pair of red riding pants, and black knee-high leather riding boots, all splattered with mud. None of the mud on his clothes had touched the floor. He stepped back to study the sketch. It was almost complete but he felt that it lacked something.

"No artist worthy of his skill would waste a moment of inspiration, Nappy. I hope I haven't offended Viscount Branson?"

"He's too afraid that international relations would be damaged by any complaint to express those thoughts."

Evelyn stood on tiptoe to peek at the sketch, although from the doorway, he doubted Evelyn could see the details. "Another debutante?" he chuckled. "If your sketches were poetry, Kemal, you could become a Turkish Lord Byron."

"My sketches and paintings are far better than Byron's poetry. There aren't any complicated words to stand in the way of the emotion and beauty of a painting. There's nothing to interpret with a painting."

Evelyn stepped closer and studied the sketch. On a bed of the Branson estate's lively flowers, Lady Mary lay and stared at the viewer with a half-lidded, slightly lustful gaze. Her lips pouted, as though she were a girl from the scandalous magazines that Evelyn swore never to read. She wore a simple tea dress that humbly covered her bosom and clutched a flower to her breasts in a paradigm of innocence. Mary's loose hair curled about her shoulders with grace and elegance. It was perfectly tasteful and slightly erotic. Evelyn cleared his throat.

"You've drawn the subject in a most compromising position."

"I was inspired by the romance of Europa and Zeus."

"If you mean the _rape_ of Europa by Zeus, then where is the bull?"

"He is somewhere off the canvas. And it was more romantic than a rape. Europa yielded herself willingly."

"Zeus was king of the gods, and Europa was a mere mortal princess. She did not yield. You know, in our many years of friendship, you've never once mentioned that you were a reader of the classics."

Kemal turned fully to Evelyn, who stood on his left. "You've met my father. You know his ways. He insisted that I should learn European history, languages, and classics. 'We are as much a part of their culture as we are part of their land!'" Kemal chuckled. "You know how he is. He would love if I found a European wife."

"Even an English one?"

"When Zeus seduced her, Europa yielded willingly, Nappy. And this is just a picture."

Evelyn held up a hand. "I cannot pretend to be unaware of the effect you have on women, Kemal. When you walk into a room of the creatures, they stop breathing. They smile. They court you and fawn over you, even if you don't have any title. And you weave a spell over them with your words."

"I possess none of your charms, Kemal. And I know Lady Mary seemed scarcely interested in me after that dinner, but I deserve another opportunity. I mean to travel to Downton tonight for dinner. I hope to win her over. With that woman as my wife, I can go quite far in this world. All I ask is that you support my effort to win her over. Stay out of the room this time."

"You must truly care for her, to insist that I stand aside. What if I want to draw her again?"

"When she is my wife, I will have none of that. You may draw her one last time on our wedding day."

Kemal's jaw clenched and the muscles in his cheek moved sinuously between the fine bones. "Lady Mary is not a racing horse to be bought, sold, and traded at will, Nappy. She's a woman with her own thoughts and desires."

"Her thoughts are her father's thoughts, and her desires are her mother's desires. And they would rather have _me_ as their son-in-law. I am an English lord, after all."

Kemal turned back to his sketch. "Am I permitted to accompany you to this dinner? Or does my base Turkish blood dictate that should lock myself away?"

"You may come, if only to stoke the fires with Lady Edith." Evelyn smiled. "In fact, yes, Lady Edith is more a match for you, Kemal. She's a lovely girl, if a bit vulnerable."

Evelyn left the room. _'What this sketch needs is my signature.'_ Mary's torso extended to the lower right corner of the canvas, and Kemal had drawn her hips and the beginning of her legs. Where her legs met her hips, Kemal erased part of the sketch with his fingertip and wrote his signature where her legs began. _'There. Now this is perfect.'_


	3. Of Sailships and Sultans, Part Two

**Author's Note: Thanks to Wivikefan for adding this story to your list of favorites, and also for inadvertently recommending a really good DA fic I'm reading. It's called Caught, by Corelli Sonatas, and for anyone who enjoys reading Mary/Kemal stories, check that one out as well.**

**As for this story, I'm going to eventually cover all four series of Downton Abbey. Each series will be eight episodes long outright, with a Christmas Special episode at the end of series 2-4. Please follow and review!**

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**Chapter 3**

**Episode 1x04 Of Sailships and Sultans, Part Two**

By mid-afternoon, Mary knew Evelyn Napier was en route. She paced anxiously in a lightweight blue chiffon tea dress in the drawing room. Her afternoon cup and her biscuits sat uneasily on her stomach. Now there was only the waiting.

Sybil watched Mary pace, while Sybil worked on her embroidery. It was just above average embroidery, since she had never been a great student of needlework. Watching Mary pace only made her mediocre skill worsen. After several more paces, Sybil sighed and set aside her needlework.

"Mary, you seem like you need something to do. Why not practice with your needle?"

"If I had a needle, I believe I should stab the embroidery and discard it as complete rubbish. Needlework is the last burden I desire. If only I had a cause, like you do with assisting the housemaids to find jobs elsewhere."

"There is nothing wrong with taking up the cause of one's fellow man. The housemaids deserve the opportunity for elevation as much as either of us."

"We have only one opportunity for elevation, Sybil," Mary sighed, "because we are women and trapped in the bodies given to us."

"Our bodies, perhaps, but we're not trapped in our employment."

"For the housemaids, that is true enough. For you and I, there will only be one form of employment: to marry whatever man will have us, bear his children, and maintain his estate in elegance. And when we retire from that position, we shall have to join our husbands in eternal rest, like Granny, unless we're fortunate to get there first."

"What has you in such a state today?"

"Evelyn Napier is coming to visit again."

"He's the Perseus to your Andromeda, remember?" Edith strode into the room in her pink satin tea dress. Her sly smirk would be been imperceptible to everyone but Mary, who was well versed in Edith's cruel jibes.

"More like the ship that Odysseus rode into Charybdis. Evelyn is as dry as wood and only half as useful."

Sybil laughed and covered her mouth with a gloved right hand, like their mother had taught her. "Compared to that exotic fellow, Mister Pamuk, I suppose he is." Mary shot her a scathing look. "Well, don't pretend as though you didn't stare at each other and talk in a world of your own throughout dinner that night. It was quite obvious to the rest of us."

"Yes, it was very entertaining, like a bear baiting show must have been to Good Queen Bess, I imagine," Edith said.

"Roar," Mary quipped.

Sybil laughed again. Mary noticed how dour Edith remained. "This afternoon, I was reading the most interesting history book from Papa's library. Surely you both know of the scandalous love affairs of Louis the Fourteenth of France?"

"I am certain that those of us with no hope of finding love must find it somewhere."

Sybil picked up her embroidery and frowned at Mary. The eldest Crawley daughter replied with a pointedly arched eyebrow. "Go on, Edith," Sybil said encouragingly, "tell us about them."

"Are you certain you should hear of such things, Sybil?"

"Don't be like Mama, Mary. And besides, I'm certain Edith won't say anything improper."

"Thank you, Sybbie." Edith cleared her throat. "It's the matter of the poor, unfortunate queen. You see, poor Marie Therese, Louis' wife, had no knowledge of any of the affairs conducted by the king. Everyone thought he was such a talented king, but really, he was just a notorious philanderer!"

Sybil's eyes grew wide. Edith beamed, as though she had accomplished some life-changing event. Mary frowned out the window. "Well I don't suppose anyone would write the history of a celibate king. It's the duty of the king to be the father of his kingdom. And fathers must be fruitful, mustn't they?" Without waiting for an answer, Mary turned and strode from the room. "I'm feeling exhausted. I'm going to lie down before the dreadful arrival of Mister Napier, and I'll wake in time for the dressing."

* * *

**_Two hours later…_**

Mary stared at her reflection in the mirror, as Anna brought in her dark blue silk evening gown. She turned left then right, studying her hips and bustline. "Anna, does it seem as though I've gained weight?"

Anna frowned as she studied Mary's body. "Not at all, my lady. Is that why you wanted to dress alone tonight?"

"No." Mary stepped into the evening gown. It rustled against her body, fitting flawlessly. "I was in no hurry to dress for dinner tonight, not with Lord Napier visiting. Actually, the more simply I dress, the better. If I could come to dinner with a collar of diamonds engraved with 'Noli me tangere,' I certainly would, Anna."

Having fastened up Mary's dress, Anna set to work on styling her hair. "I don't know if you would want to wear that at dinner tonight, my Lady."

"Why is that?"

"Mister Carson said he had to make extra room at the table for a setting for that Turkish gentleman, the one who came…"

"Mister Pamuk?"

"Yes, that's his name!"

Anna watched Mary. The eldest Crawley dropped the brooch she was considering. It seemed to Anna that Mary was as flustered as the blonde housemaid sometimes felt around Mister Bates. "Are you alright, my Lady?"

"Yes, yes, perfectly fine; I was just startled, that's all." The color in Mary's cheeks was high. "Anna, could you see if I have a nicer gown than this? One in red, perhaps?"

"Yes, my Lady."

Mary examined her reflection in the mirror. "And we must arrange this hair. It's so dreadful. I must hurry before the dinner gong!"

_'Something isn't quite right here,' _Sybil noted before the second course was even served. Her sharp blue eyes roved the table. Everyone was engaged in a conversation with the person beside them, except Sybil. _'I might have to be the proper lady and not initiate a conversation with any of these men—except Papa and Cousin Matthew—but I'm no child.'_

"Have you had a full sampling of the English countryside during your stay, Mister Pamuk? I hope Lord Branson has taken you about and shown you the many sights we have to offer?" Mary asked.

She took a sip of her wine and brazenly studied Kemal over the glass. "I can't say that I have, Lady Mary," the Turkish gentleman replied with a half-chuckle.

"Kemal has hardly been away from our estate, if truth be told.," Evelyn chimed in. "I'm afraid we haven't had much time for travel, and as a consequence, we've overindulged him. Not that Kemal has anything to complain about, do you, Kemal?"

_'Evelyn hasn't looked at anything or anyone but Mary throughout the meal. I guess he's quite taken with her,'_ Sybil observed.

"No, I have no complaints," Kemal stated.

"Well, I'm certain you have found the Branson estate to be a marvel, haven't you, Mister Pamuk?" Mary asked.

"Mama's roses are in full bloom, so a stroll through the garden is most enchanting. It should be a stopping point—if you ever travel the countryside, Lady Mary. And you too, Lady Grantham." Evelyn flashed a warm smile at Cora who beamed back. "I'm sure Mama would be most pleased to find that her friends came to admire her prized roses."

Sybil's blue eyes didn't miss the tightening of Kemal's grip on his fork.

* * *

**_After Dinner…_**

Mary barely spared a moment. When they moved to the drawing room, she stood off to the side of the room. Edith was engrossed in her conversation with Matthew on the chaise. Matthew cast a longing glance in Mary's direction, and she immediately averted her gaze. Cora and Sybil were entertaining Matthew with a tale about their latest shopping trip in Rippon.

When he looked at her, Mary turned her attention to Kemal, who was conversing with her grandmother. Their eyes met over her grandmother's head. Mary felt color rush to her cheeks at what she was about to do. _'After the dreadful way he behaved at dinner, I mustn't do it. What a narcisstic man. But I can't turn my eyes from him, and the way I feel—just looking at him—'_

She casually tilted her head, beckoning Kemal to follow her into the adjacent main hall.

To her surprise, he excused himself and followed.

Mary strode across the hall to a vase of freshly cut English tea roses from Cora's garden. She pretended to study them but watched Kemal's approach from the periphery of her eyes. He languidly sauntered toward her. "After a nighttime stroll around the gardens, I suppose you've been satisfied with the view of the whole estate?"

"If it were a matter entirely in my hands, Lady Mary, I would tour the entire estate—the entire countryside—by the light of day, instead."

Kemal stepped closer to her. _'Such a heady cologne; I must step free of redolence before it could break my composure,'_ Mary thought and took two steps to the other side of the table. "You are a gentleman, Mister Pamuk. There are more freedoms allowed to your gender and station than to mine. For a visit to the village, I have to give notice to my father, and to accompany any unmarried man, I risk a scandal if the travel lasts more than an afternoon."

"A gentleman, I may be, but I am also a foreign gentleman. My movements in the countryside are also restricted."

"Not so much as mine, I can assure you. I…"

"Your mother has the most beautiful and enchanting roses I have ever seen. Their very scent threatens to bring me to my knees." Kemal's eyes locked with hers over the roses, and Mary understood all too well the sensation she felt under his gaze. "This one, especially."

Kemal plucked a rose from the vase and brought it around the table to her. Its particular shade of yellow matched the red shade of Mary's dress. She risked a whiff of the rose. "Why did you ignore me at dinner?"

"I could scarcely be in the same county as you, and you would leave my thoughts for an hour, my darling. I am quite caught in your snare. I do not believe there is any escape."

Mary leaned forward, their eyes locked on each other, their lips perfectly aligned. Then the drawing room door opened. They turned from each other as Violet Grantham's loud harangue on the Parliament of Asquith and Lloyd George's notion of "radical improvement" reached their ears. _'I can hardly breathe when I am in his presence.'_

"If I have snared you," she whispered with her back to the party exiting the drawing room, "then I should take my prize, shouldn't I?"

Kemal's slow smoldering gaze pierced Mary's heart. She felt as unsteady as though she were aboard a ship on choppy waters. "Lady Mary, you must remember that the prize you take home must feed your family as well."

"I hope you two aren't conversing in any way that would be unseemly?" Evelyn strode boisterously across the hall. His voice made Mary jump, and Kemal flinched.

"Not at all," Mary replied breathlessly. "We were discussing Mama's flowers. Kemal thinks they're beautiful." Mary gestured to the vase.

Evelyn studied the assorted roses. "Eh, they have utility for decoration, that's for certain. Well, goodnight, Lady Mary; I am afraid the gentlemen must depart. Tomorrow we leave on the afternoon train to London. There's no telling how long the Sultan will allow Kemal and his father to remain at this point."

"Must you leave so soon?" Mary asked.

"I am afraid, chances of my stay are not favorable. The discussion for Albanian independence has not gone well, at least from the perspective of Albanians."

"That sounds most ominous. I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mister Pamuk."

Kemal gave a courteous nod to Mary. Evelyn boldly bowed and kissed Mary's hand. _'He feels like ice, but Kemal would burn me to cinders,'_ she thought. She watched the men climb the stairs, while the rest of the dinner party saw Violet off in the car. As Kemal climbed the stairs, Mary's eyes were locked with Kemal, until he disappeared from her sight.


	4. All's Fair in Love and War, Part One

**Chapter 4: All's Fair in Love and War, Part One**

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks to RHatch89 for adding this story to your list of followed stories and favorite stories, to AthenaMorrigan for adding this story to your list of favorite stories, and to AthenaMorrigan and RHatch89 for reviewing the last chapter. It's really encouraging to get feedback!**

**I wanted to take a few seconds to say that Kemal's brief role in Episode 1.03, to me, felt like so many of the roles played by dead supporting characters in Downton Abbey (i.e., William and Sybil). The show had the opportunity to make so much more of them than it did and their presence reverberated throughout the rest of the show, but they died way sooner than they deserved. So I see this story about Kemal/Mary as a kind of homage to the roles they had an opportunity to play, and there will definitely be complications that develop as WWI approaches.**

**For this "episode," I envision actor Nicholas Kali in the role of Suleiman Pamuk. **

**Continue to review, follow, and favorite!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: All's Fair in Love and War, Part One**

**Episode 1.05**

_May 1913_

_Three weeks later…_

"Great news!" Cora announced at breakfast, beaming with elation. Mary, Edith, and Sybil all looked up expectantly. Carson had just brought in the morning's telegrams and letters, and as usual, Robert had passed them along to Cora after the slightest of cursory glances. If there was ever good news, it came to Downton through her; if there was news of a more grave nature, it was passed through Robert. "Evelyn Napier has heard of the annual fair in the village and is most anxious to visit."

Mary raised her coffee to sip. "Goodness me, it won't be long before we have to give him a position at Downton and quarters of his own."

"His frequent visits bode well for you, Mary," Cora reminded her eldest daughter with a saccharine smile. _'I know that smile all too well to be deceived by its appearance any longer. It is the pawing of the ground before the proverbial charge of the bull. I would do well to heed the warning and keep silent,'_ Mary thought. She took a delicate bite of her biscuit.

Cora added, "And, you girls should be aware that this dinner won't be so precariously balanced. The Viscount of Bradford and his wife—old friends of your father's—will visit during the same fair, and with their three unmarried sons in tow!"

_'Quite subtle, Mama; I am sure your vision of your three daughters well married off, like the daughters of the Duke of Provence, are well within reach. My stomach positively lurches at the thought of these matches being made.' _Mary took another bite of her biscuit to keep silent.

"Mama, will that Turkish gentleman, Mister Pamuk, accompany Lord Branson?" Edith asked. She did not glance at Cora while cutting her sausage link, but Mary cast an eye down the table at her younger sister.

_'Surely she means to undo me, like the centaur's blood undid Heracles. Well, what Edith fails to understand is that this is a war of attrition. She who laughs longest shall win.'_ Mary concentrated on continuing her breakfast.

"Lord Branson did not say he would be accompanied. Given the breakdown of the talks with Albania, I am certain that Mister Pamuk and his father had to return to their country."

"Well," Edith said chirpily, "I am certain that the female staff will be most disappointed." _'Little liar.'_

"Yes, well, the 'staff' must look to higher people. After all, the grandsons of _two_ dukes will dine at Downton tomorrow evening. I should hope that means more than the son of an ambassador." Cora shot a cutting peek at Edith then took a bite of her own biscuit and dabbed her mouth. When her mouth was empty, she turned to Robert. "After I send the dinner list to Missus Patmore, your mother wants to have lunch this afternoon. I expect she'll be ecstatic with the guest list for tomorrow night's dinner. It is most favorable for Mary."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Really, Mama, I haven't even seen the Viscount's sons since we were all children."

"The Duke and Duchess of Bradford are old friends. Their children visited here when you were still in the nursery," Robert said irascibly.

"And you danced with one of them, Edwin, I believe, at the ball to celebrate his cousin's engagement to Lucinda Fox," Cora added.

"Papa, we were still children then. You mustn't expect Mary to fall in love with a boy from childhood, who she hasn't seen since she was still in the nursery," Sybil interjected. Mary smiled at her.

"Hopefully your sister will take the pragmatic route anyway, and will treat our guests with all the bearing of the lady your mother and I have raised her to be." Robert untucked his napkin from his shirt, set it on the table, and stood up. "I'm off to write some letters, and perhaps later, I will walk the grounds." Robert strode from the room.

Edith smile cunningly down the table at Mary. "I suppose Papa is right. It's better to entertain the sons of a Viscount than to risk a scandal any day with a foreign courtship, isn't it?"

Mary lifted her cup. "I don't suppose you would succeed with either."

* * *

_Later that morning…_

Sybil took one look at her embroidery and rolled her eyes. _'The empire won't fall to pieces if I refuse to prick my fingers again from stitching today. In fact, I would think it should stand all the stronger if I do not.'_ She set aside the half-finished pattern of a bluebird perched on a branch on the settee, and strode briskly down the great hall from the drawing room to the library. _'Perhaps I'll read about the French Revolution. Grandmama would be appalled if I should discuss the merits of the Republic over the monarchy of Louis the Eighteenth at dinner tomorrow night!'_ she though with a wry smile.

As she approached the library, Sybil heard her father's voice. "…checkout books. There's a ledger, and I make everyone sign it, including my own daughters."

As quietly as she could, Sybil tiptoed to the library door and peeked inside. Lord Grantham stood on the far side of the library in a gray houndstooth suit, speaking to a young man of average height with dark blond hair, whose back was turned to Sybil. She studied his uniform and the way he formally clasped his hands behind his back. _'That must be the new chauffeur. He seems so uncomfortable. Perhaps I shouldn't intrude.'_ She turned from the door and started back down the hall then stopped. _'Wait, why should __**I**__feel at ease? He's only the chauffeur; I'll have to meet him eventually.'_

Sybil straightened her posture and strode into the library. When her father's eyes lit upon her, the chauffeur turned his gaze to her too. "Ah, Sybil!" Robert held out a \hand to his youngest daughter. She smiled warmly at both men. "Sybil, this is our new chauffeur, Tom Branson. Tom, this is my youngest daughter, Lady Sybil."

Branson bowed to her. He seemed reluctantly to tear away his eyes from her periwinkle dress. "I am very well, Tom. It's a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Downton." _'He is actually quite handsome for a chauffeur. I shouldn't think such things though, not until I am married. But he does have lovely blue eyes.'_

"Thank you, milady. The pleasure is all mine, milady."

"From now on, Tom here will take you where you need to go." Tom finally looked at the floor, but Sybil did not miss the slight color that rose to his face. "He comes highly recommended by his previous employer, Lady Answorth."

Sybil nodded at him then turned to her father. "Papa, I wondered if I could take out a book on the French Revolution."

Both Tom and her father gave her surprised looks. "Really, Sybil? With all the violence and bloodshed of that era? Why don't you follow your sisters' tastes with a classic, like Mary, or a romance, like Edith?"

"Papa, you know my mind. It's not the drama that I enjoy or the violence. It's the thrill of the political upheaval; the tragedy and triumph of the lower classes in France; and the way it changed the entire French society."

"I should think you could read _Les Misérables _for all that." Lord Grantham sighed and embraced his daughter with one arm. "I'll not say another word on it, though. I am off to take a walk. Too soon, you'll be a woman with your own mind, like Mary."

He turned to Tom. "Come along, Tom. Carson will show you to our car and our carriage."

As he passed her, Sybil did not glance in Tom's direction, but she felt his blue eyes rake over her when he left the library.

* * *

_London, The Residence of Turkish Ambassador Suleiman Pamuk_

_That same morning…_

Ambassador Suleiman Pamuk stood at the door to the garden of his London home in a gentle London rain, smoking a tobacco pipe. Occasionally, Kemal glanced from his sketch in his father's direction. _'He hates the rain, but when I sketch, Papa watches me anyway. It is the most interest he has taken in me since I returned to London.'_ Kemal shook his shoes free of accumulating rainwater. His valet held a black umbrella over Kemal's head, keeping his sketch and the rest of his body dry.

The tobacco pipe Suleiman smoked was only one of the distinctions between father and son. Where the younger Pamuk was lean, clean-shaven, and light gold in skin complexion, the elder Pamuk was stout, mustachioed, and had a complexion like bronze. Kemal had wavy black hair; his father's hair was straight and pomaded. Kemal's eyes were so dark brown that they were almost coal black, like his mother's eyes. Suleiman had eyes the color of the turbulent sea, bluish-green. The one trait they shared was their unshakeable sense of confidence.

Kemal finished his sketch with an elaborate signature and removed it from its easel to carry into the house. He spoke quickly in a hushed tone to his valet before they reached the house. Kemal brushed by his father, set the sketch in an armchair of their drawing room, and with his valet's assistance, removed his long raincoat.

"Good afternoon, Papa," Kemal said finally. "I hope you are doing quite well today."

Kemal's valet carried the raincoat from the room. Suleiman studied Kemal as his son sat down in the armchair beside his sketch and took a slight puff from his pipe. "When my only son chooses to stand in a London rainstorm, I am certain it is _not_ a good day."

"I spent the day in the garden." Kemal folded his hands together so that the tips of his fingers touched and stared up at his father. "It reminds me of mother's garden at the estate."

Suleiman took a contemplative puff from his pipe. "I had those flowers transplanted from your mother's garden, but it is not the same being home. Ah, the sun, the cool breezes from the mountains, good coffee…I long to return home as well. Still, I shall miss the English food."

"There is no need to return yet, Papa."

"I have another dinner invitation to dine with the Prime Minister tonight. Perhaps you will find time to come?" Suleiman said, ignoring Kemal.

"That sort of invitation is not exactly my idea of an evening, Papa. I would rather dine alone here."

Suleiman crossed the room to the plush chair in which the sketch rested, while Kemal removed his rain-soaked boots. It was a sketch of a young woman with loose dark hair and dark eyes whose head was propped on her folded white arms. "Another sketch of a ravished woman, my son?" he chuckled. "Perhaps if you invited them to dinner rather than to bed, you wouldn't have to dine alone. It is very unhealthy for a boy of your age, Kemal."

"I am not a boy any longer, Papa; I'll be twenty-two soon, or have you forgotten?"

"Considering the circumstances of your birth," Suleiman replied with the pipe still in his mouth, "how could I forget?"

Kemal flexed his stiff toes. _'It is not my fault Mama died. I was only a child, but Papa shall never forgive me for taking his wife from him. In his eyes, that day will taint my existence forever.'_ "And there is only one woman I have sketched of late, Papa. There is only one woman with whom I would dine."

"Ah. Perhaps, at this angle, I did not recognize her from your other dozen or more sketches." Suleiman turned from the drawing to Kemal. "Tell me, my son, what makes this woman such a captivating subject?"

Kemal thought of Mary's smile, and a smile appeared on his face that made him glow like a newly ignited sun. "She is the most wonderful creature, Papa. She captured my heart in one day. Her beauty is nothing in comparison to her wit, her intelligence, and her ambition."

"And how often have you seen her?"

"Two times, and no more, Papa."

Suleiman sat down heavily in an armchair across from Kemal and the sketch, and sighed. _'I've disappointed him again, even if Mary is an Englishwoman.'_ "How do you feel about her?"

"I'm fascinated, Papa. She seems to be life itself. She is the most enchanting woman I have ever met."

"You sound enchanted."

"Papa," Kemal breathed, "I think I am in love with her."

Kemal's valet entered the room and picked up his boots. When the valet reached for Mary's portrait, Kemal guarded it with his right arm. The valet bowed his head and walked out with the boots. "And what is her name?" Suleiman asked.

"Lady Mary Crawley, eldest daughter of the eighth Earl of Grantham."

"Does she have any brothers?"

"I believe there is a male cousin set to inherit the estate and the title."

"I would hate to see you enamored of an English rose, only to find that she's made unavailable by her ties to the estate. Although, the daughter of an earl comes with its own complications, doesn't it?" Suleiman studied his son a heartbeat longer, but Kemal still beamed. "How much do you love her?"

"I love her enough to marry her."

Suleiman jumped to his feet. "Enough to...enough to marry her? I was afraid you would say that, Kemal." He stared into the crackling fire of the lone fireplace.

"Papa, haven't you told me that you were in love with Mama after you had known her an entire week?"

"Don't bring your mother into this!" Suleiman snapped. Kemal clammed up immediately. "Times are changing, my son. Albania was not as content as we had hoped with the outcome of the conference. I expect they will mount another push for their independence soon, perhaps something more radical. There was a time when the word 'empire' commanded admiration. Now it draws only resentment. The world in which your mother and I courted is being turned quite violently upon its head.

"I wonder, if it will change quickly enough for you and your Lady Mary Crawley? You being the son of an ambassador for the Ottomans…" Suleiman sighed and rubbed his forehead. Gray had begun to infiltrate his hair. "We live the life of aristocrats, my son, but it is not commiserate with the lifestyle of an English lord. Would she be willing to live in our world?"

"Let me try, Papa. Let me go to her with a proposal."

"I have heard of Englishmen taking Indian lovers. But never of a Turkish man taking an English lover."

Kemal's smile did not falter. "I need to at least try, Papa. I need to try."

Suleiman snorted. "Very well. If you are going to propose to an Englishwoman, I should hope you do so in the English way. Come, I shall lend you use of the ring with which I proposed to your mama."

"You still have it?"

Suleiman walked out the room, motioning for Kemal to follow. "Of course; and you'll have to catch the morning train tomorrow. And see to it that you wire ahead to the Earl of Grantham and dress elegantly. I hope I can arrange continued use of this house…"


	5. All's Fair in Love and War, Part Two

**Author's Note: In the roles of the Duke and Duchess Bradford, Bill Nighy plays the Duke, and Emma Thompson plays the Duchess. Orlando Bloom portrays Viscount Dudley; Rupert Grint portrays Viscount Edwin; and Robert Pattinson portrays the third brother. **

**Please continue to review and follow!**

**Chapter Five: Episode 1x05, All's Fair in Love and War, Part Two**

When the mail came that morning, Mary watched her father read a telegram and his eyebrows rose. He passed the telegram to Cora. She sighed immediately after reading it. "This is so much trouble. Perhaps we ought to abandon this dinner altogether."

"What is it, Mama?" Edith asked.

"It seems that Mister Pamuk wishes to visit during the Grantham Village fair as well. He's heard so much about my roses, and wants to see them before he has to depart from the country, if it isn't too much trouble. He says he will be on the morning train from London." Cora groaned and tucked the telegram back into the envelope in which it had come. "Really now, there will be too many men at tonight's dinner."

"I just hope it doesn't jeopardize international relations," Robert joked.

"There's an easy enough solution for the dinner, Mama: Just seat all the men around Mary. I'm sure she's all they're here for!" Edith threw down her napkin and stood to leave the room.

"Edith, really!" Cora exclaimed.

"I'm not feeling well. I'll be in my room to recover my strength." Edith stormed out. Mary suppressed her smile.

* * *

When the morning train from London arrived at the Grantham Village station, a blonde woman with a trim yet matronly figure and a tall older man with a slight paunch were among the first passengers to disembark from the train. The man wore a stylish gray traveling suit, brown shoes, and a black bowler hat. The blonde woman's hair was neatly pinned under a blue pillbox hat that matched her cobalt blue traveling suit and low gray heels. As she stepped off the train, the blonde woman sighed.

"I certainly hope it doesn't rain during our visit," she drawled, pulling off her kit gloves. "I don't mind visiting Robert and Cora, but if it means spending a whole day indoors with them, I'd rather be locked in a tower awaiting my Prince Charming."

"I thought I was your Prince Charming?" the man asked.

"Arthur dear, of course you are." They leaned closely enough to each other to almost kiss each other, but they were in public. Their lips never touched. "But there's no denying that Robert and Cora are boring when left to their own devices."

"You mustn't say things like that, or they'll think you don't appreciate them, Amelia. We need this match with a respectable family. Don't forget why we're here. This isn't about our comfort," Arthur whispered.

From the other end of the car, three young men stepped off the same train. The first two were tall, lean, and had dark, wavy hair with heart-shaped faces and high cheekbones like their father. The third and youngest Kent brother swayed unsteadily beside his older brothers. "I thought the drink would have run its course by now," said the eldest of the brothers.

"It almost did, but I had another sip on the train, just to make sure," the youngest replied, his voice slurring.

"You'll end up ruining yourself if you're not careful, Edwin."

"I'm a Duke's son. If I ever end up destitute, I'll find an heiress in New York first."

From behind the three brothers, a fourth man approached in a gray traveling suit, not unlike their father's. He tapped Harry, the oldest Kent brother, on his shoulder. "Excuse me, good sir, may I have this dance?"

Harry, Dudley, and Edwin Kent turned at the same time and exclaimed their surprise. They embraced the man in turn. "Evelyn Napier! What a surprise to see you in this part of the countryside!"

"I could say the same. What brings you gentlemen here?"

"We're here for a dinner party with Lord and Lady Grantham. After seeing their daughters at Rosalyn Fairchild's debut, we're convinced to pursue the matter more personally."

"Pardon my inquisitive nature," Evelyn asked, "but which of Lord and Lady Grantham's daughters did you see at Rosalyn Fairchild's debut ball?"

Harry glanced at Dudley. "Only the two oldest were presented, Lady Mary and Lady Edith, am I right?" Dudley confirmed with a nod. "Of course, our parents are here to dine with Lord and Lady Grantham. You know how that is."

"Then our destination and our goal is the same: I am on my way to dine with the Lord and Lady Grantham tonight as well."

"I suppose the pool of eligible sisters has diminished considerably," Dudley said.

"That is," Harry said mischievously, "unless we undertake the same quest as Jason and his uncle the false king."

"No need to set apart one sister as the Golden Fleece, my old friend. What of the youngest daughter of Lord Grantham?"

At that moment the youngest of the Duke's offspring stumbled into their conversation. His blond hair had become quite unruly. "Edwin, is that you?"

"Yes," Harry frowned at his brother. "Did you have _another _drink on the train, Edwin?"

"Of course I did. Beer gives a man fire in his belly; scotch gives a man dignity; and rum gives man fortitude."

"You smell as though you have fire, dignity, and fortitude enough. Can you even stand upright long enough to speak to our old friend Evelyn?"

"The question is, would I _want to_?"

Dudley chuckled in a good-natured way and slapped Edwin on his back. "That's our brother Edwin: older but not wiser."

"I suppose the trip to the Village took quite a toll upon his nerves," said Evelyn.

Harry cut his eyes from Evelyn to Dudley. "I suppose that is so. Come on, Dudley. Let's help Edwin to the car. Perhaps he can sober up en route to Downton Abbey."

"Good day for the moment." Evelyn tilted his hat at the young men as they walked off. He turned to meet his valet at the horse-drawn carriage sent by Lord and Lady Grantham to carry him to Downton. To his surprise, a familiar-looking figure stood beside the carriage with another valet loading trunks. "Excuse me, but what, may I ask, are you doing?"

The familiar-looking figure turned around. "Kemal? Fancy seeing you here, in this part of the country, again; this is quite unexpected!"

The two men embraced briefly, but Kemal did not offer a warm smile. "Nappy, my old friend, you know where my heart lies. You know why I am here."

"I suppose it is the two of us in pursuit of the Golden Fleece then?"

Kemal scoffed Evelyn's remark. "There are many other prizes you could pursue here in England, my old friend. There's no need…"

"Don't you _dare _call me, 'old friend,' when you dare to pursue the same prize. I asked you to stay away from her. I warned you…"

"Neither of us speaks for Lady Mary's heart. She will choose whom she will choose, and none other than that. You have no right to declare against me."

"Kemal, if you persist in this pursuit, I vow to you that I will perform a tactical maneuver certain to make Wellington's defeat of Napoleon seem like the work of a lucky novice." Evelyn stepped into the carriage, followed closely by his valet. Kemal climbed in after him. His valet followed.

"I think I will take my chances tonight, Nappy."

* * *

_Downton Abbey, moments later_

Anna was well accustomed to multitasking, but not to the amount of preparation being made for the arrival of the Duke of Bradford and his family. On her way to the girls' bedrooms, the house staff was scrubbing and waxing and dusting a second time. Another bouquet of fresh flowers was brought from the garden. There was fresh carpet being laid on the stairs. And the windows were being cleaned again. _'If this is what Lord Grantham wants for the arrival of a Duke, I can't imagine what he would do if the King and Queen came to visit. The whole house might have to be rebuilt.'_

She dressed the girls all in the same room. Even though Anna had ironed and attired them in outfits that were unblemished in fitting the girls, as she worked on Mary's sage green dress, Sybil examined her reflection in the mirror one last time. The conch shell-colored dress gave Sybil's complexion a rosy glow but she seemed to be without breath. "Golly, my corset's tight. Anna, would you be an angel, could you loosen my corset for me, please?"

"And mine as well, Anna. They are terribly suffocating," Mary added.

Anna worked on the laces. _'If these girls worked the hours I work and ate the meager meals I have to eat, perhaps they wouldn't even need a corset to fit their waistlines. They could have the naturally beautiful figures these corsets are supposed to give them.'_ "Yes, milady; right away."

Edith, seated at the makeup table, smirked sinisterly in the mirror. "It's the beginning of a slippery slope. If you two were more discerning about what you eat, perhaps you could fit your clothes."

"I am _not_ gaining weight!" Sybil snapped.

"Corsets don't shrink in the drawer, do they?"

Sybil fumed, even as Anna moved to work on her corset. When the door of Mary's bedroom opened, Sybil smiled in time for Lady Grantham to poke her head into the room. "Girls, our guests are approaching! You must come downstairs at this moment. It would be dreadful if these young men think you're less than eager to see them."

"I'm coming, Mother. Mary and Sybil have to loosen their corsets first." Edith glanced nastily at her sisters as she strode across the threshold to the hallway.

"Don't worry," Mary said, "even if Edith had the figure of a dancing hall girl, she would have as many suitors now as she could ever hope to have."

Sybil breathed a sigh of relief as the laces finally permitted her to breathe. "That's quite cruel of you to say, Mary. Edith is our sister. We ought to be a source of encouragement to her."

"Encouraging Edith is like cavorting with the French: It's best done at a distance, and can only go on for so long before all propriety is put to the test. Come now, Sybil. Either we greet the Duke and his family, or we risk eternity as old maids."

Anna watched them leave the room and sniffled slightly. _'Maybe if I wore a dress like that, Mister Bates would notice me.' _Then she walked down the stairs after them.

* * *

Edith had reached the front door of the mansion and stepped into the line with her parents. She stood out from her sisters in a white silk afternoon gown. Sybil struggled to smile. _'I wish we could have all come dressed similarly. We used to be such a trio, all dressed alike when we were small children. I miss those days terribly.'_

Lord and Lady Grantham already stood on the drive of Downton flanking one side of the stairs. A car and a carriage approached up the drive; the carriage contained four young men. "Perhaps we needed a second car," Lord Grantham said from the side of his mouth, addressing Cora but loud enough for Sybil to hear.

"A second car _and_ a second chauffeur seem to be a ridiculous formality. One additional staff for a temporary visit is more than adequate. Otherwise, we would have a chauffeur as useful as marching into a Russian winter," Cora responded.

The car parked closely to the front steps, and the chauffeur climbed down to open the doors. As soon as Amelia exited the car, she smiled broadly at Cora. "What a delight to see you again, Cora!"

Cora opened her arms wide to embrace her friend. "Amelia, how I have missed our conversations of late; corresponding with you isn't half as engaging as your voice." The two women stood at arm's length from each other. "Your dress is simply amazing. It looks like a Worth creation."

"Oh no, it's a new designer but from the same school in Paris!" Sybil maintained her smile by watching Tom open the door for the carriage. The tall, lean Bradford brothers stepped down from the carriage. "Are these the same lovely ladies I saw in London just last season?"

Sybil turned her attention to the Duke and Duchess. Arthur seemed engrossed in a profound conversation with Robert, while Cora stood with her left arm stretched out to present her three daughters. "Indeed, they are. Mary, Edith, Sybil, you remember the Duchess of Bradford, don't you?"

"How do you do, Duchess Bradford?" Mary led the sisters in a series of curtsies.

"I am well, Lady Mary. I hear from Lord Evelyn Napier that the hunt here at Downton is most thrilling."

Mary looked surprised. "I wasn't aware that you were a huntress, Duchess."

"In my time, I was quite the athlete. In part, it's how I met Arthur; he was the avid hunter and I was a passionate huntress. We fit well together, Arthur and I. Of course, that was long before I had the boys and had to stay from the hunt for quite some time."

Sybil smiled at the story. "Are you close to the Viscount Branson, Duchess? You mentioned him a moment ago," Edith asked.

"Not really, but Lord Branson was at the station at the same time as we were. He should be on his way here, but there weren't enough carriages to bring us all at once."

The corner of Edith's mouth turned up at the sight of Mary's crestfallen countenance. "And are these the strapping young sons of the Duke of Bradford, about whom I've heard so very much?" Robert bellowed.

Arthur stepped back to present his sons. "Indeed, Lord Grantham, these are my handsome sons, the jewels of my wife's coronet: Harry, Dudley, and Edwin. I believe it has been many years since you last saw them together like this. Dudley has been in his studies at Oxford, and Edwin has been…abroad."

_'Edwin looks positively ill. He seems as though he can hardly stand. I hope he doesn't get sick in front of Papa. It would dampen the mood of the visit,' _Sybil thought, studying her counterpart among the Duke of Bradford's progeny. _'And that Harry looks quite old to still sleep in the bachelor's quarters. I do hope he's to be paired with Mary, rather than Edith or me. And Dudley…'_

"You've been away at Oxford?" Sybil asked boldly.

Dudley smiled at her, and Sybil blushed. _'Those lovely green eyes…They feel as though he's looked into my very soul. They're not quite brown but not quite as light as green either. But I mustn't become one of those women who lose all notion of sense because a man smiles at me, must I?'_ Sybil glanced away and steadied herself. "I've just finished my studies in letters of the law."

Sybil risked a glance at him. Dudley continued to smile at her. Sybil's smile only faltered when Cora glared in rebuke at her.


	6. All's Fair in Love and War, Part Three

**Author's Note: Thanks RHatch89 for the review on the previous chapter! I hope not to disappoint anyone since this is a third part to the "episode," but I promise that this is too relevant to move onto Episode 1.06 just yet. Continue to review and follow!**

* * *

**Chapter Six, Episode 1.05, All's Fair in Love and War, Part Three**

_The Grantham Village Fair_

They drove to the fair in two open air carriages: Mary, Edith, Harry, and Evelyn in one carriage driven by Branson; Dudley, Edwin, Sybil, and Lady Grantham in the other carriage driven by their other chauffeur. The Duke and Duchess of Bradford remained behind, claiming exhaustion, and Robert had business to attend to on the estate. Edwin was more garrulous after changing clothes and smelled less of liquor during the ride.

As they strolled onto the fairgrounds, Cora kept in stride with Sybil. Dudley walked to Sybil's left, while Edwin trudged behind them. Dudley gave Edwin a slight, nearly imperceptible nod to Edwin and the younger brother veered off to one of the amusements. "I hope you don't feel uncomfortable if I remain here, Lady Sybil, but I've grown rather weary with Edwin's company."

"I don't feel uncomfortable at all, Viscount Bradford. If you've spent as much time in the company of your brothers as I have spent in the company of my sisters, then I feel more sympathy than discomfort," Sybil replied.

"What my daughter means is, you shouldn't travel from Bradford Hall to spend more time in the company of your brothers," Cora added.

"That is precisely my sentiment. We spend more than an adequate amount of time in each other's company, hunting wild game on the estate. Do you hunt, Lady Sybil?"

Sybil shook her head but Cora answered verbally. "Sybil doesn't engage in the hunt, but Mary is quite an avid hunter. I hope you'll see her on display during your stay. Lord Grantham and I have taken care to arrange an excellent hunting party for you, since Duchess Bradford wrote to me about your passion as hunters."

"Well, even if you won't hunt, I should hope you'll come to spur us on, won't you, Lady Sybil?"

Sybil glanced at Cora then demurely lowered her eyes to the ground. _'Mama doesn't think I am ready to converse with men until my debut ball, but it is Viscount Bradford who has chosen to be so audacious in speaking to me. I wonder if Mary's suitors are so bold with her?'_

"I suppose I could."

"Sybil is an accomplished equestrian, but it is Mary who is the star of the stables," Cora added again.

"Then do you resent hunting, Lady Sybil?"

"Of course not, Viscount Bradford; Mary learned from a young age and was far more ardent about it, but Sybil just has never taken much of an interest in the chase," Cora responded.

"Actually," Sybil said boldly, "I haven't had much opportunity to join the chase before. It has always been Mary's domain. My pursuits have been of a more academic nature."

Dudley chuckled. Even under Cora's admonishing glare, Sybil held her chin up and walked with her shoulders held high. "With all this talk of revolutions and upheavals on the Continent, I suppose this is the closest we'll get to a revolution domestically," he joked.

"So I take it that you don't believe in a woman's right to the vote then? Or in the radical changes being made in Parliament?"

Cora rolled her eyes. "Sybil, darling, don't start down that slope."

"It's a perfectly legitimate question, Mama. Wouldn't you want to know if you'll have another revolutionary in residence for the next two days?"

"To answer your question, Lady Sybil, I find the notion of 'women's rights' to be quite distasteful."

Sybil stopped in her tracks. So did Dudley and Cora. "So you're of the same mind as those high-minded men in Parliament who believe a woman's mind should not step beyond the opinions of her father or her husband? And that a woman should resign herself to do housework, sew, and look pretty for as long as she breathes?"

"I believe that it would serve the suffragettes better to address the issue as one of basic human rights—possession of property, the right to vote—rather than calling it 'woman's rights.'"

"But it is the women who are suffering!"

"As much as it is the Irish who protest under Home Rule, or the people in the Balkan Mountains protest under Austria-Hungary's rule, but there is very little sympathy abroad for either, isn't there? It is only those who suffer alongside them that believe they are burdened by cruel and heavy chains."

"That is because, until one has born those chains of tyranny, one cannot commit to fight in the same struggle!"

Cora patted Sybil's shoulder. "Sybil, dear, we're at the fair. This isn't quite the time for this discussion."

"I apologize, Lady Grantham, but I have no unease with this discussion. I would like to hear more of your daughter's views, as radical as they may be." Dudley grinned at Sybil. She returned the smile without lowering her eyes or retreating.

* * *

_After dinner_

As the plates were cleared from the table, Mary let out a breath of relief. Since Kemal's arrival at Downton, she felt as though she had held her breath the entire time. Kemal and Evelyn had arrived shortly after the Duke and Duchess of Bradford because their carriage had caught in a muddy rut. Even in the light gray traveling suit that did him no justice, Mary enjoyed how impeccably coiffed Kemal appeared. She had so many butterflies flitting around her stomach that it was virtually impossible to eat any food.

Mary was seated between Harry and Evelyn Napier, while Kemal was seated inconveniently between Edwin and Edith. She was grateful that Edwin was extremely entertaining when he sobered up, because it provided ample cover for clandestine looks to pass between her and Kemal. When the party moved to the drawing room, Mary hoped to catch Kemal, but Evelyn maintained his stream of conversation about his foxhounds when they sat on the sofa in the drawing room.

"You see, with foxhounds, it's all about the proper breeding into the dog. That's the thing that makes a great hunting dog. It's what matters more than anything else: the pedigree of the hound you own. If it's a male, you want one bred for its strength and stamina. And you want a male for its strong teeth; he has to have healthy teeth. Females are usually stronger in having a keen sense of smell and beautiful coats."

Mary took a flute of champagne from the tray Carson offered. Its bouquet made her nose tingle from its overwhelming pungency. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered all the faster. Mary chanced a sip. "I suppose it is much the same with men and women, except that women are chosen exclusively for their coats."

"Quite witty, that observation; that was very witty indeed." While Evelyn took a sip from his flute and stared at her over the glass, Mary glanced in Kemal's direction. He was entangled in conversation with Harry and Edith. "I am almost certain that a garden party with you in attendance would be irrevocably entertaining."

"It's my mother who is the hostess and star. I simply attend to display my feats with fire-eating."

"You're an acrobat as well as a comedian? Truly, you are a woman of many talents, Lady Mary."

Mary craned her neck and spotted Kemal standing over her shoulder. "Mister Pamuk! How delightful of you to join our conversation; you should take a seat, please."

"I don't think Kemal wishes to intrude upon our banter. He isn't staying in the country much longer; I suppose English chats have bored him into taking flight," Evelyn laughed.

"No, it is a more personal matter that has taken me from the country. If you'll excuse me, I didn't mean to intrude, but I thought it would be uncouth to not greet Lady Mary." Kemal strode from the drawing room with his champagne still in hand.

"I wonder what is drawing Mister Pamuk from this esteemed land of ours. Perhaps he has been called to defend his homeland from the incursions of the insurgent Balkan states?"

"The American in you must be profoundly strong to make such a supposition. I doubt there is an Englishwoman alive so bold as to make that same conjecture about foreign politics."

"I'm not so bold as I seem, just smarter." Mary set aside her flute of champagne. The bubbly liquor had unsettled her stomach, rather than aiding her digestion. She coughed lightly, and Evelyn frowned. "I'm alright. I'm not nearly so bold as American girls. Did you hear of the American woman who died just this month in a plane crash?"

"That was the Quimby woman who flew over the Channel, wasn't it?"

"Precisely."

"Well I think it is a dreadfully ludicrous enterprise, flying. If God wanted us to fly, we should have been given wings. That Quimby woman would have been more sensible to stay on the ground with her two feet."

"She simply undertook one of life's great risks. She ventured into what was unknown, as anyone should."

"I gather she wasn't married. If she had been married, her husband would have kept her feet on the ground for her."

"I don't know if that bears true with me. Americans are forever climbing higher and higher, going further and further. Look at the new building in New York City. My grandmamma told me she drove by it just this week, and she says it's the tallest in the world. The Americans claim it's over two hundred metres tall."

"That's preposterous."

"Mama seems to be the expert on it. The husband of one of her childhood friends designed the building. Perhaps you ought to ask her if you find me an unreliable witness."

"I'm afraid I'd rather avoid doing that. She's American and as likely to believe the tallest of tales." Evelyn sipped his champagne again.

An ironic smile appeared on Mary's face. "I'm as English as you, Lord Branson…"

"Only half as much, I'm afraid." He chuckled drily at Mary's viperous expression. "I mean to imply that Americans are given over to ridiculous flights of fantasy, of which the Quimby woman seems to be an example."

"I don't believe it was a flight of fantasy that led to her death. In fact, I read in the Times that the American investigators believe she might have crashed because of there was a man on board whose weight caused an imbalance." With that, Mary stood up and strode quickly toward the drawing room door.

"Mary, where are you going?" Cora called after her.

"Excuse me, Mama, but I really must lie down. I'm quite exhausted from dinner. Excuse my abrupt departure, everyone." Mary glanced at everyone except Evelyn before she exited the room.

When the drawing room door closed behind her, Mary stopped and leaned against the wall outside the dining room. The wallpaper felt cool against her forehead; even before going to bed, Mary wasn't willing to risk destroying her perfectly coiffed hairstyle with two peacock feathers to hold her hair in place. She allowed tears to roll from the corners of her eyes and drip to the floor.

_'Is this really the best I can hope from my life? Is this the best I shall ever have? To be overlooked in favor of Matthew is horrid enough, but am I to endure the relentless rounds of balls, dinners, and hunts until I am asked to marry? And when I do marry, am I to endure the supremacy of my husband over my own emotions and beliefs?'_

"Certainly I hope you understand the predicament in which your declaration puts me," Lord Grantham's voice came from the dining room behind Mary. She started to walk to her room and cry in seclusion. Then she heard Kemal's response.

"Lord Grantham, I do understand…"

"Please, Mister Pamuk, 'your Lordship' is the proper address at such a time as this."

Compelled by her father's glacial tone, Mary turned around. The dining room door was ajar, and she peered in through the sliver of door. Robert and Kemal were seated at the cleared dining room table. _'Why would Papa wanted Kemal to address him like a servant?'_

"Your Lordship," Kemal corrected, "I understand the complexity of the situation, but I can assure you that I am genuine in my affections for Mary."

Mary's eyes went wide. Her heart raced. Her stomach clenched. "It isn't the sincerity of your emotions that I question, Mister Pamuk."

"Is it a matter of money then? I assure you that in Turkey, my family is significantly wealthy."

"Do you think I am truly that uncouth as to finagle about money, or to inquire about your family's wealth? This isn't the sort of topic one resolves with a handful of coin. This is a very grave matter, Mister Pamuk, and I expect you to address it as such!" Robert raged.

"By my declaration, Lord Grantham, I meant to absolve you of any concern that I would fail to provide accordingly for Lady Mary. That is all. But I see that there is another issue at hand here."

"And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"Does it bother you, Lord Grantham, that I am a Turk?"

Mary couldn't see her father's face clearly, but she discerned Robert was livid by his ruddy complexion. "Indeed it does! I do not know the entire history of your country, but I know the state it is in now. Do you expect I will give my daughter's hand in marriage to a man who will take her abroad to a nation in turmoil? Do you think I would allow you to risk my daughter's life and security in that way?"

Kemal scoffed. "As I can no sooner change my heritage than I can change my feelings for Mary, I should consider this conversation at an end." Kemal rose from his chair.

"How dare you! You should know better than to stand before a gentleman of the English peerage!"

"You British and your love for traditions."

"If you think your contempt for my country is going to win any favor…"

"I'm not so naïve as to believe such a thing. But I do believe that Mary reciprocates my feelings for her."

"If you love my daughter, you will let her go. You will let her marry an Englishman with land and a title. And there will be no further discussion on this topic. I am off to bed. Good night, Mister Pamuk. I hope I do not have to see you on the morrow."

As Robert approached the door, Mary sequestered herself behind the door. She hid with baited breath until even the party in the drawing room had passed upstairs. When Kemal did not walk by her, Mary went into the dining room. She found him at the dining room table, staring ahead aimlessly. Kemal glanced briefly at her then resumed his staring purposelessly.

"Lady Mary, why do you venture downstairs so late?"

"Whatever else you may decide to do, Kemal, do not push me away." Mary looked around and listened for the sound of Carson or any of the footman or housemaids moving around the main hall. There was no sound from any of them.

"Am I to understand that you heard the entire conversation between your father and I?" Mary nodded, and Kemal chuckled ironically. "He is correct. A woman as lovely, intelligent, and intrepid as you deserves an appropriate English husband. It was foolish of me to come here." Kemal stood up.

"Do you mean to leave me now?"

"My father and I depart for Istanbul in two days. I had one purpose for coming here."

"And what purpose was that, Mister Pamuk?"

"I came to ask your father for your hand in marriage."

"Papa may have declined your proposal, but I have not heard it."

Kemal stared at her with his mouth agape. She had seen that expression on his face before when they coupled that night in her room, and the mere reminder made her heart race in her chest. "You still believe I am much more a rebel than I am. If I accepted your proposal, I would not wish to defy my father."

"But, do you wish to marry me, Lady Mary?"

"I wish to persuade my father to give me away in marriage, or else I risk losing my entire family and all that I am."

"So it is your desire to marry me?"

Mary looked around the room again. "If I am asked properly, I would consider such a thing."

* * *

Outside the dining room, Evelyn peered through the crack in the half opened dining room door. He watched as Kemal sank to one knee before Mary, and took her left hand in his.

_'You have played me falsely, Lady Mary. If you wished not to accept my proposal, it would have been simple rejection. But to accept the proposal of my companion, Mister Pamuk, and a foreigner at that, it is an insult to my family and my name,' _Evelyn thought. _'I will not take this lightly, and no matter how long it would take, I will have revenge for your betrayal, for your insult of my affections, Lady Mary Crawley and Mister Kemal Pamuk.'_

"Lady Mary Crawley, will you take me as your husband and become my wife?" Kemal asked inside the dining room.

It was all Evelyn could do to not scowl when Mary nodded and said, "Yes, Kemal, I will marry you."


	7. Correspondence, Part One

**Chapter 6: Correspondence, Part One**

**Author's Note: My apologies for being two years' tardy with an update. I provide some explanation for my disappearance on my profile, but basically, I have been caring for my mom for the last two years, working full-time, and pursuing an advanced degree. In the intervening two years, I missed the ending of the Downton Abbey series (which was very poignant) and I've missed writing my fanfiction. I hope you all haven't abandoned this story and that I'll be able to draw in new readers as well. If you have any questions, PM me. **

**Thanks RHatch89 and CeCe for reviewing the last chapter of this story. Please continue to review and follow. **

**Chapter 6**

**Episode 1x06: Correspondence, Part One**

_July 1913_

After a late start to her morning, Mary descended the stairs to join her father and sisters in the dining room for breakfast. Mary wore a light yellow summer dress with a large, delicately tied ribbon around her trim waist. When she arrived in the dining room, Mary greeted her family with a small smile. "Good morning, Papa, Sybil. Edith."

"Good morning, Mary," everyone returned in near unison.

Lord Grantham held up an unsealed envelope as Mary passed him. "Mary, you received another telegram from Mister Kemal Pamuk. I took a father's liberty and read it for you, in case it should contain any hint of unsavory Turkish language. Would you like to know what it says?"

Mary sat down and struggled not to reveal the way she was shaken by this information. Blood rushed to her face anyway. She sensed Edith, who sat across from her, smirk dastardly. Mary's stomach churned but stood up and reached for the letter. "Thank you, Father, but I would much rather read it myself."

"No matter: I'll advise you of its contents anyway. Mister Pamuk greatly anticipates seeing you again, Mary, and makes a mention of a proposal he hopes you did not play him false in accepting." Lord Grantham's voice rose and color rose into his face. "What proposal was this Mary?"

"Sybil, would you please pass the toast?" Mary asked weakly. Her youngest sister passed the plate of dried toast to Mary.

"Are you going to avoid my question?" Lord Grantham demanded.

Mary's fingers trembled on the lip of the envelope. "Papa, Mr. Pamuk merely proposed that we engage in another hunt together. I have not responded." Mary steeled herself as she met her father's gaze in a concerted effort to convey that she was telling the utter truth.

Lord Grantham breathed an obvious sigh of relief. "Very well. You must forgive me for being so intrusive into the affairs of my daughters." He produced a second enveloped from within his suit coat. "Sybil, it seems that there was a letter in the morning post for you as well."

All three sisters gazed up the table at their father. Sybil reached out eagerly for the unsealed envelope. "From whom, Papa?"

"It's from Viscount Bradford, Dudley Kent."

Sybil's eyes widened in shock. Mary studied her youngest sister while Sybil opened the letter. Beside Sybil, Edith's face dropped in disappointment. "Thank you, Papa."

"As it only addresses books and politics, I'll consider it appropriate enough correspondence for now. But if Viscount Bradford writes again to you, Sybil, please be kind enough to advise him that he would need to arrange an appropriate visit through your Mama," Robert warned with a scrutinizing glare.

Mary and Robert both attentively watched Sybil as she reached Dudley's letter with a rapt expression of elation. Edith cleared her throat and leaned forward. "Papa, was there a letter for me?"

"Not this morning; perhaps your letter will arrive with the evening post."

"The evening post of the next century, perhaps," Mary interjected, "unless we have another guest at dinner who is prepared to be disappointed by her lack of charm."

"Really, Mary, couldn't you spare a moment to be tender to Edith, just for once?" Robert rebuked his eldest daughter.

Mary winced at her father's chiding, but Edith rebutted, "Don't worry, Papa. Mary was born bitter that she wasn't born a boy. She just casts it upon me."

Edith peeled open her soft-boiled egg. The egg's odor assaulted Mary's olfactory senses, and her stomach lurched violently. She instantly felt hot and clammy. Bile rose in her throat. Mary clasped her hand over her mouth and bolted from her seat to the nearest lavatory. She ignored the calls of her father and sisters, barely reaching the washroom in time to regurgitate her entire breakfast.

_Two hours later_

Within the hour, Lord Grantham had sent word to Dr. Clarkson to come from the village to examine Mary. Despite her busy schedule for the day, which included riding and tea with Dowager Lady Grantham, Mary was instructed to remain in her bed for the remainder of the day. After Lord and Lady Grantham made sure Mary was comfortable in her bed, Sybil scampered down the hall to her eldest sister's bedroom and rapped lightly on the door. The letter from Viscount Bradford was still in her hands.

"Do come in. I'm proper," Mary called from within her room.

Sybil walked in, beaming broadly. Her face fell at Mary's appearance. With Anna's assistance, Mary had changed from her morning dress into her loose cotton nightgown, and her hair was down. Her face was unusually pallid and wan. "What happened to you? You look ghastly."

"Thank you, Sybil. I thought you were the caring one of the family," Mary groaned.

"I did come upstairs, didn't I?" Sybil walked further in the room and sat on Mary's bed. "Edith won't come visit you because she's convince you've caught a bout of flu. And Mama isn't coming up until Doctor Clarkson arrives."

"You only came upstairs under the pretense of seeing me. You came to read that letter from Viscount Bradford."

Sybil playfully swatted Mary. "Do you really think he means to court me?"

"I think Viscount Bradford is aware you're too young to be wooed at this point, and Papa would never allow such a courting." Sybil's smile diminished somewhat. "But I believe he is genuinely interested in pursuing you when you come of age."

Sybil beamed and pulled out the letter. "I've read over the letter as often I could to glean as much from it as possible. He is quite handsome, isn't he?"

"He is," Mary nodded half-heartedly. She had begun to feel sleepy.

"Listen to this: 'Mama asked after the health of the entire Crawley family. I suspect she knows something of our correspondence, so I told her that you had improved at your embroidery but are still afflicted in horseback riding.' He speaks to his Mama about me!"

"Go on, I'm listening."

"But this part is a little sadder. 'Mama was appalled beyond belief when I told her of your aspiration to become a teacher. I think she agrees with your Granny that it isn't a career fit for a young woman of a certain class. She may be progressive but Mama is no reformer.'"

"I'm not surprised at all," Mary drawled. Then she groaned as her stomach had lurched again. "Sybil, could you fetch Anna and tell her I should like to have a plate of toast."

Sybil reached for the bell cord beside Mary's bed and rang it. "Are you sure you are alright? Do you want me to send for Mama?"

"I want to hear the rest of the letter, then you can send for Anna. You know Mama will worry too much."

"I do believe it is a lady's privilege to worry herself about the health of her daughters," Cora spoke from the doorway. She removed her left hand from the doorknob and folded it with her right hand in front of her. "When I came downstairs to place the seating for tomorrow night's dinner with Lord and Lady Cunningham, your father told me that you had taken ill, Mary. And Anna saw you approaching her room, Sybil. So what is this about a letter from Viscount Bradford?"

Sybil was caught red-handed with the letter in her hand and her mouth gaped open in surprise. "Well, Mama…"  
"If you mean to throw me off, Sybil, need I remind you that I once was a girl as well, and that I had my share of letters written before your father came along?" Cora sat down in an armchair at the foot of Mary's bed. "Now I should like to hear what he wrote."

"Very well, 'I hope to hear more of your thoughts on our politics. I shall be at the Duke of Gloucester's gala to open the season. Will you and your sisters be there? Please reply soon.'"

Sybil put the letter away. "He sounds very eager to see you again. I'm surprised that his mother isn't hosting a gala of her own. She's the Niobe of eligible sons." Cora looked up at Mary, who was half asleep. "Are you well enough to come downstairs, Mary?"

"Not quite; I still feel a spot of sickness. I'll lie down a bit longer."

"It does seem to be something going through the house. Anna was sick last week, and now another maid has taken ill today. I'll call Doctor Clarkson again to examine you. What could be delaying him?"

"And I have to run an errand into Rippon. I'll return shortly before dinner tonight." Sybil rose from the bed, and Cora rose from the armchair. They departed from the room, and Mary turned uneasily onto her side for a nap.

_Downstairs, in the kitchen_

Mrs. Hughes strolled into the kitchen, jingling as usual of the many household keys she kept on her person. Mrs. Patmore's kitchen was already busy with assembling the lunch menu. "Missus Patmore, I thought to stop by and make sure you had the menu Lady Grantham has ordered for the dinner tomorrow night with Lord and Lady Cunningham. We are to have several guests, including Sir Anthony Strallan." Mrs. Hughes held out the menu for Mrs. Patmore.

"Don't hand that to me; I'm busy handling a pheasant! Set it on the table over there or hand it to Daisy!"

Mrs. Hughes laid the menu down on the table then sighed. "Lady Grantham has also asked me to advise you that Doctor Clarkson will join us for lunch. He will be arriving to examine Lady Mary within the hour."

"There is some illness about in this house. First it was Anna, then Gwen, and now, of all horrors, Lady Mary has taken ill."

Mrs. Hughes sighed and shook her head. "It isn't _the _Plague, but it is a nuisance."

"So is Lady Mary alright? Has she been completely laid low?"

Mrs. Hughes glanced at Thomas and Daisy, both of whom were blatantly eavesdropping. She stared them down. "May I assist the two of you? Or do you have duties to fulfill?"

Daisy wilted under Mrs. Hughes' glared, but Thomas' impertinent gaze could have frozen a lake. "We're sorry, ma'am. We didn't mean-" Daisy fled the kitchen in mid-sentence. Thomas gave Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore another icy stare then haughtily strode down the corridor. He caught up to her quickly; Daisy had merely retreated to the hallway and nervously wrung her hands together.

"What's the matter with you?" Thomas asked.  
"I just…I always wanted to be scullery maid. And I don't want to antagonize Missus Patmore. I don't want to be put out. She frightens me something terrible."

"You can't let them intimidate you. We already have the Granthams lording over us. Those two old bats aren't that much higher up than we are."

"You're so much braver than I am," Daisy replied in wonderment. "You don't let anyone push you about, do you?"

"Of course not. I know what I'm worth. You ought to know your worth too," Thomas advised.


	8. Correspondence, Part Two

**Author's Note: Thanks RHatch89 for writing a review on the last chapter, and thanks Sam1954 for following this story. I have several chapters sitting around waiting for publication, so I figured I would go ahead and update again this weekend.**

**Please continue to review and follow. I appreciate your feedback!**

**Episode 1x06: Correspondence, Part Two**

Dr. Clarkson, accompanied by Anna and Cora, arrived about one hour before the lunch hour. "My apologies again, Lady Crawley, for my intrusion into your lunch plans. I was preoccupied with another matter in the village," the doctor apologized upon arrival.

William helped the doctor remove his hat and coat. "It is no intrusion, Doctor Clarkson. In fact, you are more than welcome to join us for lunch."

"It would be my honor."

As Dr. Clarkson proceeded further into the house, Cora walked beside him. "Anna, one of our maids, and I will be in the room to supervise the examination. "

"How thorough of an examination do you want this to be?"

Cora looked around then lowered her voice. "Forgive my candor, but I have my reasons to desire a _very_ thorough examination. I want to make sure my daughter is perfectly healthy. It is almost the end of the summer after all. She'll need to be healthy for the season."

They ascended the stairs side-by-side. Cora led the way into Mary's room. "Good afternoon, Lady Mary," Doctor Clarkson announced enthusiastically. "How do you today?"

"Good afternoon, Doctor Clarkson," Mary sighed. "I am as well as any bedridden woman can be I suppose. And how do you do?"

"I am in good spirits, as always. But our concern is not for my health, but for yours." Doctor Clarkson set his medical bag on the nightstand beside Mary's bed and stood over her with his hands folded together. Anna sat at Mary's bedside on the far side of the room, and Cora took a seat in an armchair at the foot of the bed. "How long have you felt ill?"

"Since breakfast this morning."

Dr. Clarkson removed his stethoscope and a mercury thermometer from the medical bag. He inserted the thermometer in Mary's mouth and studied her eyes. Then he listened to Mary's heart through her nightgown for a few silent moments. "Well, your temperature is only slightly elevated and your eyes have a normal appearance. I doubt it is an infection of any sort." He turned to Cora. "Lady Grantham, with your permission, may I physically examine Lady Mary?"

Cora nodded and pursed her lips. "What is the meaning of the physical examination?" Mary snapped.

"There is no evidence to support a theory of an infection as the cause of your ailment, Lady Mary, and in order to treat a problem, we must know what type of problem is being addressed."

"Very well; I don't suppose I could endure being bedridden for much longer."

Mary relaxed and pulled back the bedsheet covering her body. Dr. Clarkson began to press the stethoscope around Mary's chest. "Your breathing sounds normal as well. There isn't any chance of this being a respiratory affliction. Tell me, Lady Mary, did you eat anything unusual last night or this morning?"

"Last night, we had roasted lamb and potatoes. There is nothing at all unusual about lamb in the diet of an Englishwoman."

"What did you eat for breakfast?"

"I ate nothing."

"I will have to examine your stomach. Please tell me if you feel any pain or discomfort." Dr. Clarkson began to press on and around Mary's stomach. When he reached Mary's navel area, Mary winced.

"It doesn't hurt but it's far from being comfortable," Mary said quickly.

Dr. Clarkson stood up. "I see. I'm going to examine the area around where you mentioned you felt discomfort, if I may." Dr. Clarkson began to gingerly press on and around Mary's navel. Mary still winced from the touch of his fingers. "Lady Mary, have you experienced any other symptoms? Has there been any unusual bleeding or any significant cramping of your stomach?"

"No, not at all."

"Has there been any other discomfort at all of late?"

Mary's forehead knotted in thought. "Well, there have been more _intimate_ occurrences. I haven't had any regularity of late."

"Oh that is quite enough of that talk!" Cora yelped, clasping her hands to her mouth. "

Dr. Clarkson's eyes bored into Mary's. The noblewoman's face blanched pale at the silent knowledge he betrayed. She shook her head ever so silently. Dr. Clarkson still turned to Cora and Anna. "This seems unlikely but…Usually, there is great deal more evidence and joy at this announcement, but...I believe Lady Mary is with child."

From the other side of the closed bedroom door, Edith covered her mouth so that her shocked gasp would not be audible to those inside the room. Her father had sent Edith to apologize for her behavior at breakfast, but the middle Crawley daughter had forgotten about Mary's examination that morning. Edith had no intention of remaining in the room, and had changed into a traveling dress to demonstrate her urgent need to leave. Then she had heard Dr. Clarkson's words uttered.

"That could not be possible, Dr. Clarkson. My daughter is still quite virtuous," Cora stated concretely. "I will not have her name slandered with such an accusation."

"Mama, perhaps I am not as virtuous as I would have you believe," Mary quietly whispered.

There was a long, heavy silence within the room. Finally, Cora spoke loudly. "How did this happen?"

"Quiet down, Mama, or the whole house shall hear!"

"Is that what you said to your lover? Did you tell him to keep quiet?"

Edith turned and started to leave. She normally enjoyed seeing Mary rebuked, and had since their days in the nursery. However, she did not want to hear the discussion of Mary's illicit pregnancy; she had better things to do. Edith stopped before she had taken five steps and returned to the door. Curiosity did not rule Edith as it ruled Mary. But it was motive for her to return to the door and listen for the identity of the man who had impregnated her sister.

"I would be mortified to think it was the gardener, or the chauffer, or the footman," Cora sniped on the other side of the door.

"Really, Mama, do you think I have no scruples?"

"How can you speak of scruples, when you lie in a bed, ready to bear a bastard child? How can you speak of morals or dignity when you handed over your virtue to some man like a common woman? Be careful in the words you speak to me."

Edith surprised a giggle of delight. "Yes, Mama," Mary apologized.

"Who is the father of this child? Or have they been so numerous that you have forgotten their names?"

Mary's pride flared in her response. "The father of my child is Kemal Pamuk. He loves me, Mama, and he desires to marry me."

Edith departed from the door with those words. She had an idea to write a letter.

_The following morning…_

Strolling through Grantham Village, Mary waved politely to each pedestrian she passed. It was a shocking divergence for the villagers—Old Mr. Granger, Mrs. Doyle, and Mrs. Hatcher—whom she encountered. The tall brunette noblewoman was renowned for her resistance to greet anyone of a lower class than she. In fact, the villagers all pondered whether the Earl of Grantham's eldest daughter had lost her wits. They reciprocated her amicable greetings but offered quizzical stares as well. _'Why does everyone look at me in that manner? I haven't gone daft. Perhaps everyone else has,'_ Mary thought as she strode into the telegram office.

"Good morning, Mister Parish. Lovely day, we're having, isn't it?"

Mr. Parish, the manager of the telegram office, was a middle-aged, slightly portly man with thinning blond hair. He stared in surprise at Mary when she greeted him. "Hullo, Lady Grantham."

Mary removed her walking gloves. "Is something wrong, Mister Parish?"

The middle-aged man straightened his posture and righted himself immediately. "No, Lady Mary, not at all; how are you today?"

"I'm doing quite well," Mary replied with a grin. She reached into her traveling coat and pulled out a sealed envelope. "I have a telegram here that needs to be sent _immediately_ with the greatest of urgency and the highest level of secrecy you can provide, Mister Parish."

He held out his hand, and Mary had to surrender the telegram. With rough, callused fingers stained from the ink his machines used, Mr. Parish ripped open the envelope and pulled out the telegram. After reading the letter, he glanced up at Lady Mary across the top of the page. "You may have encrypted this as much as you could, but I know well enough what it means. I assume that your father is not to know I have sent it?"

"No one—not my father, nor my mother—should know about the telegram. And when I receive a response, no one else needs to about it. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, milady. But it would an additional five pounds to send this telegram with that degree of secrecy."

Mary's mouth dropped open in shock. "Is this some sort of blackmail?"

The middle-aged telegrammer set his jowly jaw. "No, milady, I do not participate in blackmail. This is simply the price of doing business. Consider it an additional labor fee, if you will."

Rolling her eyes, Mary produced a five-pound note from her purse and offered it to Mr. Parish. He took the money then cleared his throat. "That's _in addition to_ the normal rate for sending a telegram, which for this distance would be two pounds." Mary rolled her eyes again and reached into her purse for a handful of coins. "There we are. Now, what is the destination of your telegram?"

"Send it to Istanbul, care of Mister Kemal Pamuk."

When Mary returned to Downton, the doorman handed Mary a note from Sybil with one word neatly written on it: "Library." She removed her traveling hat and coat in the foyer then went to the library. Sybil sat on a chaise waiting for Mary's arrival. "Sybil, what are you doing here in the library?"

Sybil looked up with a girlish grin on her face and revealed a sheet of parchment in her hands. "I've just received another letter from Viscount Bradford. Here, read it!"

Intrigued, Mary took the letter and studied the elegant yet bold handwriting. She read most of the letter in silence but at the ending, she spoke aloud. "I also hope you will attend some of the London balls this fall season. If I shall not see you before then, I hope to revisit the simpler life and fresh country air at Downton in the summer thereafter. Give my best regards to Lord and Lady Grantham." Mary closed the letter and handed it back to Sybil. "My, my, he is not only bold; he's persistent as well."

"It may be that his previous letter was sent before this one and they simply arrived within a day of each other," Sybil suggested.

"Have you already checked the date on the other letter? I'm certain you still have it."

Sybil smiled shyly. "No, I haven't. I dare not take it out to even read it, for the fear that Papa would have some objection to it."

"Then why would you arrange this meeting in Papa's favorite room of the house?"

"Because I was so eager to talk with you about it." Sybil hastily folded the letter and stuffed it into the waist of her dress. "Do you truly think I have a suitor, Mary? I'm old enough to have a beau, I suppose, but I'm not old enough to be courted. Wouldn't you agree?"

Mary felt a sudden spell of exhaustion and sat down. "I think you're old enough to have a dance at a ball, but far for old enough for talk of suitors or beaux."

"And why is that? This is a changing world for women. We're close to achieving the right to vote, and we've a woman as a magistrate. Who's to say when a woman may and may not consider marriage?"

"Papa, that's who. You know well enough that no matter how advanced England may become in regard to the rights of women, Papa will continue to see us as his little girls until we are well married with his permission."

"You make him sound as though he's as antiquated in his thinking as Granny is."

"He very nearly is, Sybil. At any rate, is it time for lunch yet?"

"Not yet, but I believe Mrs. Patmore and the staff are working on it now. Mary, I don't suppose you could teach me to become as accomplished a rider as you are, could you?"

"I could teach you only as much as our riding instructor taught me, Sybil, which is to say I would be a failure at it as well." Sybil frowned in disappointment. Mary consolingly patted her sister's knee and added, "I know you have other attributes that will secure Viscount Bradford's heart, if that is what you wish. And that should be of some comfort, when you consider the dire straits of our poor Edith. She's as unfortunate as a ship at the Clashing Rocks."

"You really mustn't go on like that about her. Edith is a perfectly lovely person."

Mary sighed. "I supposed. But if I had the option to choose siblings, I would choose two brothers before I chose Edith."

"That reminds me, what is the status of the Entail? Wasn't Cousin Matthew looking to bestow the entire inheritance, or at least a portion of it, upon you?"

"Part of it: If Mama had her way, I would be able to inherit enough money to make me a very eligible lady."

"You already-" The library door opened, and Anna entered. She curtsied to the two ladies seated. "Yes, Anna?"

"Pardon me, but Lady Grantham sent me to request you speak with her and Dowager Lady Grantham in the drawing room, immediately, Lady Mary."

"Tell them I shall be there shortly." Anna curtsied again and exited the room. Mary stood up, but she still felt exhausted. She struggled to put on a brave face. "I didn't expect Grandmama to visit today. I wonder what she and Mama want of me?"

"Whatever it is, please grant their wish as quickly as possible and return to me. We must finish this conversation. I shall meet you in the garden."

"Very well, Sybil. I shall meet you as soon as I can." Mary patted her sister's shoulders and departed for the drawing room.

As Mary crossed the parlor to the drawing room, Edith descended the stairs. She had just changed into a travelling coat and a drab gray dress to venture out to the village. Edith spotted Mary enter the drawing room, as Anna passed her on the stairs. The middle Crawley sister stopped Anna on her ascent. "Anna, where is Mary going? She looks as though she's ben out."

Anna glanced downstairs. "It seems to me that Lady Mary is going to the drawing room. That's all I can tell you." Edith narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Anna. "If you'll forgive me, ma'am, I'll go and tidy up a bit." Anna proceeded up the stairs. Determined to uncover the truth, Edith waited until Anna had vanished then walked downstairs to the drawing room door.

"Mama, Grandmama." Mary curtseyed to the elder women of her family. "How do you do today."

"Very well, Mary. And I see you are also well, despite your present condition," Dowager Lady Grantham responded. "In my time, a woman hardly got out of bed in these circumstances except to make her social calls. Quite ironic, considering how one ended up in the condition."

"Granny! There is no need to be so vulgar," Cora rebuked.

"Vulgar?" Violet chuckled. "There are only us three women in the room, and we know enough of the predicament to know how one achieves it."

Cora took a sip of tea. To cut the tension, Mary sat down and responded, "I've felt a bit exhausted of late, but my overall health is quite good."

"At least there is a silver lining to this cloud," Violet sniffed.

"Mary," Cora set down her teacup, "your grandmamma and I wanted to meet with you today because we've booked your passage across the Atlantic to visit your other grandmamma in New York."

Mary swallowed hard and forced herself to accept the burden of what her mother was advising. "Very well; when do I depart?"

"Tomorrow." Mary's jaw dropped open in shock for the second time that day. "I wasn't able to give her full details on the reason for your visit, but she knows something is afoot. Anna is already upstairs packing your belongings for the trip, although I suspect you'll return from New York with even more clothes."

"Wouldn't it be wiser if I waited to go until you close the house for the summer?"

"For that matter, why sent you then? Surely we should wait until the start of the season!" Violet huffed. "In your condition, time is of the essence. The sooner you depart, the better it is for the family's reputation, and yours!"

"Your grandmamma has an astute point. If you remain too much longer, your scandal would be visible to all."

Mary clasped a hand to her mouth. "I think I am going to be ill." She ran from the room and upstairs as quickly as she could. Edith, who had heard everything from the drawing room door, barely avoided being struck by the door as Mary fled.


	9. Suffering the Suffrage, Part One

**Author's Note: Thanks Blue Blossoms, RHatch 89, and Guest for writing reviews on the last chapter. I'll resolve the issue on how Cora refers to Violet in forthcoming chapters; she did indeed call Violet "Mama" as she called her own mother. I appreciate the feedback, and will be more accurate because of it. Also, thanks to mayagirl99 for following. **

**Continue to review and follow!**

**Episode 1.07: Suffraging, Part One**

**_June 1914_**

Downton House was once again a hive of activity early the morning of the tenth day of June 1914. The house had been open for only about two months, but that morning, the Granthams were planning a very special event. Just before lunch, Lady Mary was to return on the afternoon train from London after she had spent a year in New York.

Cora Grantham had the servants decorating the entire house gaily in preparation for Mary's arrival. In addition to welcoming her eldest daughter back home, there was already a full booking of guests set to visit for dinners, hunts, and wooing the Grantham girls. She had already checked off two items on her extensive checklist of things that needed to be done: the food had been ordered and she was managing the arrangement of flowers and decorations.

"Now, I want the lilacs all together on the mantle," she instructed William, "and all of the roses need to go on that table over there," Cora pointed Thomas to a table across the foyer from the telephone. As the two men set the vases of flowers in their respective places, Cora nodded and smiled her approval. "Yes, that's it precisely. It looks marvelous so far."

Robert walked down the stairs and stood beside his wife in his walking coat. "You're doing a most magnificent job here, Cora. I feel I need to step out of the house so as not to be run over by all this hustle and bustle!" he chuckled.

"Thank you, dear. Where are you going to now?"

"Just out for a bit of fresh morning air around the grounds."

"Please make haste back. You wouldn't want to be late for Mary's return!"

"Of course not. I'll return shortly." Robert tipped his hat at his wife and headed out the front door.

Resuming her coordination of the decorations, Cora turned to Thomas and William. "Now, I'd like to tackle the placement of these beautiful lamps from Tiffany. I want them to be placed strategically near the doors so they can give the most illumination and be great conversation pieces."

Sybil descended the stairs at a trot and gasped at the arrangements Cora had underway. "Goodness Mama! I do believe that if you were organizing the suffrage rallies like this, then our right to vote would be secured!"

Cora fiddled nervously with the pearl necklace around her slim throat, and aimed a sharp glance at her youngest daughter. When coupled with her yellow dress, Cora seemed even more austere and reserved. "Please do not bring up the suffragettes; it makes me think of that poor woman who was trampled by a horse last year. That's the only reservation I have to you being at one of those rallies, Sybil. It upsets my stomach at the mere thought."

"Mama, I'm hardly more than a spectator."

"Be that as it may, it seems that all the news about suffragettes is so tragic."

"We are getting closer and closer to securing the vote. That can't be tragic at all, Mama."

Cora merely smiled. "Sybil, while you're here, could you be a dear and find Edith for me. I wanted to go over the dress she'll be wearing for dinner tomorrow night."

"Certainly, Mama." Sybil started to leave then stopped and turned around. "Mama, who is coming to dinner tomorrow night?"

"Well, in addition to Mama, we'll have the honor of hosting Sir Antony Strallan and Viscounts Dudley and Edwin Bradford." Sybil smiled at the mention of Viscount Dudley. Cora noticed her daughter's smile but said nothing else. "Anyway, you go on and find Edith."

Almost as soon as Sybil left the room, Cora sat on one of the parlor sofas and continued to fiddle with her pearls. Mrs. Hughes walked into the room and spotted Cora reclining on the sofa. "Lady Grantham, is everything alright?"

"Yes, I believe so," Cora nodded, "but would you please call Doctor Clarkson to pay a visit anyway?"

"Certainly, Lady Grantham." Mrs. Hughes walked to the phone.

Sybil found Edith on the patio with a letter in her hands. The elder Crawley sister wore a simple sage green dress with an elegant yellow bow tied around her trim waist. Edith glanced up when she saw her younger sister approaching and smiled. "Hello, Sybil. What brings you out here?"

"What is that, Edith? Is it a letter? From whom?" Sybil sat down in one of the patio chairs across from her elder sister.

"You shouldn't pry so into the lives of other people. It isn't very polite." Edith folded the letter down and stuffed it into the envelope from the table in front of her.

"As Granny would say, we are British. Prying into the lives of others is what we do best."

Edith smirked at Sybil's cheekiness. "You make a valid point. So I'll tell you: That was a letter from Lord Evelyn Napier."

"Lord Napier? Isn't Sir Antony Strallan already courting you, Edith?"

"Evelyn and I are merely bosom friends. We write each other from time to time. What brought you out here? Have you come to look at Mama's garden?"

"Mama sent me to find you because she wants to discuss your attire for tomorrow evening's dinner. Then a grin broke out upon Sybil's face. "Are you _really_ balancing courtships between Sir Antony and Lord Evelyn? Please tell me." Edith smirked coyly. "How exciting!"

"I thought you were too engaged with the vote to interested at all in matters of the heart, Sybil?"

"Edith, just because I believe women should be more than a wife and mother does not mean I am unable to be elated for the marriage prospects of my sister. And I should be excited for at least one of my sisters. I have no idea if Mary will marry."

"No man should be burdened with the weight of such wicked woman as a wife."

Sybil's eyes grew wide in shock. "Edith! What would possess you to say such a thing about our sister? I know you and Mary hardly are bosom friends, but why would you say that?"

"That's no matter, Sybil. About your current cause, the liberation of our gender, I am proud that you're so grounded and far-seeing."

"Do you say that to imply that my causes have no impact upon our futures?"

"No at all, Sybil. I only wish I could be as brave as you."

Sybil smiled brightly. "Very well: Come with me to Rippon tomorrow. There's a rally taking place before the next election and I plan to be there."

"How will you get to Rippon? The Bradfords and Sir Anthony will be here tomorrow."

"I've already arranged to have Tom, the chauffeur, take me into town. I'd only be gone a short while. You should come with me."

"I'd love to accompany you, Sybil, but I'm afraid I would be a terrible guest. Perhaps you ought to invite Mary. She's far more rebellious than I am."

_Two hours later, _

Shortly before the afternoon tea, Mary Crawley finally returned to Downton Abbey.

Lord and Lady Grantham, Sybil, Edith, Thomas, Mr. Carson, and Mrs. Hughes all waited on the front drive of the mansion as the open air carriage approached. From yards away, Mary's regally upright figure was obviously in a yellow traveling dress, wide-brimmed sunhat, and a white silk scarf tied around her head. Mary smiled as the carriage approached closer, and Cora smiled back. When the driver stopped at the front door, the footman jumped down, opened Mary's door, and assisted her as she stepped out. Mary's grin broadened even further. "Hello, Mama; hello, Papa. It's so good to see the both of you again."

Mary rushed into Cora's arms and hugged her mother tightly. Then she hugged her father. Cora took Mary's hands and examined her daughter at length. "It seems as though you enjoyed _too_ much sun while you were in New York. Did Mama take you to one of the beaches?"  
"Yes, it was one social event after another with Grandmama! We went to Newport just before the end of the summer, and I believe she was doing her best to marry me off to a New York millionaire."

"Really?" Robert asked.

Cora rolled her eyes at her husband's playful inquisitiveness, and Mary giggled. "At any rate, Mama, I am still an English rose and I will regain my proper color."

"And I see you maintained your figure as well."

Mary smiled sadly for just a few seconds, then resumed her happy smile. "Yes, Mama."

"Well, we can discuss this all later. For now, let us enjoy our afternoon ea."

Robert led the way into the mansion, followed by his women, Mr. Carson, and Mrs. Hughes. William and Thomas remained behind to unload Mary's luggage.

"What was New York like? What was Grandmama Livingston like?" Sybil asked.

Mary untied the silk scarf around her hat and handed the hat to Anna as the family strode across the parlor. "She was quite…animated. And headstrong; and generous. She gave me several gifts for all of you, and sends her love to all, especially Mama." Mary took Cora's hand and smiled. "She understands why you haven't written in some time, but she still misses your letters."

Cora smiled back. "What kept you, Mary? I thought you were going to be here at lunch time. You missed a spectacular meal."

"My apologies, Mama, but I had a minor delay at the train station. While I was there, I had to send a telegram of great importance."

_Istanbul, nighttime. _

While the Crawleys welcomed back Mary from her stay in New York, half a world away, Kemal Pamuk stood on the patio of his father's home and stared into the starry night sky. He stood alone on the patio with a glass of wine in his hand. Kemal was dressed in the sort of finery expected from someone of his class in attendance at an important social event: an elegant French-cut white silk shirt, tailored black dress pants, and black leather evening shoes. The passage of an entire year and all the events it had wrought upon Kemal's life had not marred the young man's dashing good looks. Yet, even to an untrained observer, there was a sort of aged wisdom in the depths of his dark eyes, the type that could only be gained from years of challenging experiences.

As Kemal stared into the night sky, a servant approached him. The man's station was defined by his garb of loose white linens. Kemal turned absent-mindedly toward the man. "A telegram for you, sir," the servant announced and offered Kemal a sheet of folded paper. Kemal took the telegram, and the servant returned to the house.

Kemal opened the telegram and read it carefully. His hands gripped the paper more tightly as his eyes darted along the page several times. When he finished the telegram, he dashed inside the house and found the servant standing outside Suleiman Pamuk's library. "Book me passage to England on the first boat departing," Kemal instructed breathlessly. The servant nodded and started to walk away, but Kemal grabbed the man's shoulder as a thought occurred to him. "Wait here. I will draft a telegram for you to send immediately to Grantham Village. Take it with you when you secure my passage; it will save you an extra trip."

He started to walk to the adjacent room, which was Suleiman Pamuk's office, but the library door opened. Suleiman Pamuk stood in the doorway. The passing of the year had added a few gray hairs to his moustache and hairline, but the man projected just as eminent a presence as ever in his evening attire. A worried expression had planted upon Suleiman's face. "My son? Did I hear you speak of booking a passage to England?"

Kemal turned impatiently. "Yes, Father; if I may obtain one, I mean to leave tomorrow morning. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Suleiman sighed and folded his large hands together. "Is this a visit for business or pleasure?"

"What do you mean, Father?"

"I mean, are you still courting that Englishwoman, Lady Crawley? I believe that is her name."

"Yes, Father," Kemal sighed. "You know that I proposed to her, and she accepted my proposal. I intend to marry her."

"You proposed over a year ago. Do you believe, my son, that your proposal stands the test of an entire year? Englishwomen can be very fickle."

"I know Lady Mary's heart as well as I know my own. She loves me. Besides, Father, didn't you become betrothed to Mama when you were both very young, and remained betrothed for many years? Why should Mary and I be any different?"

"That was different, Kemal. Your mother and I were of the same people, the same culture. We understood what it meant to wait years to marry as young people. We were capable of honoring oaths. This Englishwoman," Suleiman waved his hand dismissively, as though waving off a gnat, "she is not of our people. They do not honor oaths."

"I do not believe that is true, Father."

"Whether you believe it or not, Kemal, that is the truth. You know her family would never condone such a union. They look upon us as little more than savages. To this Englishwoman, you were little more than an exotic adventure."

"That is not true!" Kemal exploded. He shook the telegram in his father's face; Suleiman retained a look of nonchalant disinterest. "Here, I have proof that she loves me! She summoned me back to England, now that she has returned to her family. And now that she has returned to her family, I mean to wed her before they can postpone our union any longer." Kemal sighed. "Father, please support me in this matter."

"And what will you do if I am reluctant to support such a foolish endeavor?"

Kemal set his jaw and glared at his father. "You cannot…"

"Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, my son." Suleiman softened his tone. "You do not understand, my son: The world is not what it once was. Our empire is not as strong as it once was. We have fought too many wars, especially with the rebels in the Balkans. Our attempts to negotiate understandings with the Russians…" Suleiman sighed.

"I do not trust the Englishwoman. She is not the solution; England wants no ties to our people. Find a pretty girl from amongst our people. Marry her. Make me a proud grandfather."

"What if I am marrying the mother of your grandchild?" Suleiman's eyebrows rose. "Father, when Lady Mary went to America, she went to give birth to my child without endangering her reputation in England. And when I go to England, I go to meet her…and our child."

"An unmarried English noblewoman returning to her home and family with a child in tow?" Suleiman shook his head. "No, my son, that is preposterous. The English value their honor too highly for that woman to be allowed in her family with your child in her arms. The English are not friends of the Turks. To her, you may have been an exotic liaison, one she may want to repeat. _That _is why she summoned you. It would be best, my son, if you stayed away." Suleiman turned to return to his work in the library.

"And what if I do not?" Kemal challenged.

Suleiman sighed, stopped, and turned to face his son. He seemed to have aged five years in the short span of time, so heavy were the words upon his lips. "If you choose to go to England and be with this Englishwoman, Kemal—if you choose to marry her—you will do so without my support, emotional or financial. And I will no longer have a son." Suleiman closed the library door behind him.

_Downton Abbey, five hours later_

As dessert (a rich tart of blueberries and strawberries) was served to the Crawleys, Cora spoke up over the usual dinner chatter. "Since it's only our family here tonight, I thought this would be the perfect time to deliver an announcement." She could not suppress the elated smile upon her face. "Lord Grantham and I are expecting another child."

The surprise was nearly unanimous around the entire table. While the Crawley sisters struggled to find words to express their feelings, most especially Mary, who seemed speechless, Isobel briskly spoke up first. "Congratulations to the both of you. I hope it shall be a healthy child."

"Likewise," Matthew interjected. However, his face betrayed his internal struggle. "Do you know whether it shall be a boy or a girl?"

"We can only hope it shall be a boy," Cora said thoughtlessly. Robert cut his eyes at his wife. Cora quickly added, "But we have been blessed with three beautiful daughters so far, so who's to say we shall not be delivered of a fourth?"

"It would be a pleasure to no longer be the youngest," Sybil said.

Cora beamed. "I certainly look forward to hiring a nanny, arranging the nursery...And, according to Doctor Clarkson, I am quite far along."

"One thing is for certain: There's an unemployed nurse who is just as thrilled at this impending birth as we all are," Violet chimed in.

"I'm certain this won't be the only recent birth," Edith mumbled. She sipped from her wine glass.

"What does that mean, Edith?" Mary snapped.

"Yes, Edith, what _do_ you mean?" Robert added.

Edith set down her wine glass and delicately dabbed her lips. Cora and Mary all cast glances at Edith. "I only mean that sooner rather than later, one of us Crawley girls will be married off and start families of our own. Especially if Sir Anthony proposes marriage."

"Now, now, there's no need to be in such a rush, Edith. Such a thing will come in its due time," Robert chuckled.

"Why shouldn't she be in a rush? Edith has at last attracted a bee, and it won't be long before the bloom is gone from the rose," Violet interjected. Edith's face fell into distress. "In fact, Mary ought to be more concerned, unless her travels in New York piqued the interest of some millionaire."

"It would make an interesting match," Cora commented.

"Interesting?" Violet huffed. "It would be to our detriment to have to plant an English rose in the wilds of that country, Cora. Although I mean no offense to your upbringing, as you clearly made the best move."

Cora smiled.


End file.
